


If You Go Down To the Woods Today...

by SaskiaK



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Curses, Danger, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: The guys are sure of a big surprise when they discover the secrets of a cursed forest, the setting of their new video shoot - Chapters 14 & 15 posted - The End





	1. Frank is Terrified

**Author's Note:**

> Another old one including Bob. Have a look, who knows, you might like it!

Frank crashed through the undergrowth of an overgrown and wild forest; something was out there, chasing him. There were tall trees all around, reaching high into the night sky, their branches obscuring the moonlight. Falling again on the root of a tree pushing up from the ground, Frank tried hard to silence the cry of surprise that would give away his position. Scrambling to his feet, he paused momentarily, holding his breath, as he heard the crackle of dried twigs snapping ahead of him and made a sharp turn to the left. He ran with desperation, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to escape this strange and fearful place. Pausing to draw breath, he glanced quickly around, he could see nothing, but the sounds he had heard earlier – a low growling – now seemed to be coming from all around and in his panic he had no clue as to whether he was running directly into the path of the creature. Running again in a direction he desperately hoped would take him to the edge of the forest, he stumbled again; not quite losing his footing this time, but his gasp of surprise was enough to draw the sounds closer. He could see nothing in the impenetrable darkness but now he could feel it, closing in on him, its hot fetid breath on his neck. So close, oh God, so close, why couldn’t he run faster? He couldn’t turn; he knew if he did he would slow him down and if he saw it, he would be too terrified to move.

The camera panned in on Frank’s terrified features and a voice shouted:  
“Cut!” a pause. “And print. Nice one, Frank, that really looked realistic this time.”

Frank staggered back against a tree and sighed with relief as the floodlights came on, lighting the whole area. His eyes darted from left to right and he took a deep breath as he saw nothing but Gerard coming towards him. As he approached the young singer broke out into appreciative applause.  
“Frankie! That was amazing! I had no idea you could act that well!”  
Frank forced a smile. The truth was, he hadn’t been acting, but how could he say anything? They’d think he was crazy.

It was the first day of their new video shoot and they were spending much more time than usual on this one. It wasn’t just the special effects that needed more attention, but the location made filming difficult and, as a result, much more time consuming. A three day filming schedule had been planned and everyone was excited, that was, everyone except Frank. He had been, right up until the moment he had arrived on location and something most definitely had not felt right to him. Nobody else seemed to have noticed. Well, he corrected himself, certainly no one had mentioned it, but then neither had he.

Gerard pulled the guitarist away from the tree and placed his arm around his shoulder.  
“Wow,” he laughed, “you really did get into character, didn’t you?”  
“Huh?” Frank managed in reply.  
“You’re shaking, man!” Gerard eyed him with concern. “Are you okay?”  
“Yeah,” Frank shrugged, then offered his best laugh under the circumstances, “yeah, of course!”  
Gerard chuckled. “I guess I’ll be the same when it’s my turn.”  
Frank offered a smile, but inside he was thinking: Oh, fuck, I hope not!

Walking steadily back towards the trailers, Frank remembered the horrible sensation he had felt in the forest and glanced back over his shoulder to see if there was actually anything there, but of course, it was all brightly lit by the floodlights and dozens of people were walking around going about their business, there was nothing else to be seen. Perhaps there was nothing all along? Nothing but his overactive imagination.

“Hey!” Ray jumped behind him, using Frank’s shoulders to push himself higher. “That was awesome, Frank, you’ve really set the bar high for us!”  
Frank nodded and tried to be enthusiastic as Mikey and Bob joined in to express their admiration for his convincing performance.  
“Well, you know, I’m not going to be overshadowed by you guys!”  
“Overshadowed?” Mikey laughed. “Frank…”  
“Don’t give me any short jokes, Mikey!” Frank snapped, much harsher than he had intended.

  
Mikey withdrew slightly.

  
“I was only gonna say that you’re always great in our videos. You put so much into them.”

  
Frank’s shoulders sagged.

  
“I’m sorry, Mikey and thank you. I… I guess I’m still a little tense. The woods… and it’s dark; it kinda gets to you.”

  
Frank glanced around for the tiniest glimmer of understanding. He wasn’t certain, but he really thought he noticed Bob flinch ever so slightly. He made a mental note to speak to him about it privately later. But for the time being, it was Ray’s turn to be filmed in the woods.

The premise of the video was that Frank, Ray, Bob and Mikey would be driving along a lonely stretch of road when, swerving to avoid a figure standing in front of them, their car would career out of control and crash. They would wake in separate areas of the forest, and whilst trying to find each other, would be chased by a homicidal axe wielding manic in the form of Gerard - the same person who had caused the crash.

It was, as ever, a somewhat tongue-in-cheek, yet high-drama affair that they hoped would please their fans. Gerard would do his scenes last as it all had to be coordinated with him singing along. He’d have to do his scenes probably a dozen times so that they could cut and print with the song perfectly lip-synced. So, now it was Ray’s turn and Frank reached out and grabbed his arm as he moved forward to speak to the director. Turning, he looked with expectant eyes at Frank, who was at a loss over what to say.

“What is it, Frank?” Ray prompted as the director called him over again.  
“Be careful, Ray.”

  
Ray frowned with concern.

  
“It gets really dark when the lights go down. I fell for real a lot and…” Frank paused.  
“And what?” Ray asked as the director called again.  
“Just… be careful and…” Frank picked up his tone and waved a hand. “Have fun! You’ll be great!”  
“Thanks!” Ray grinned as he ran to take instructions on his scene.

  
Mikey and Gerard both moved forward to watch Ray, but Frank was stopped in his tracks as he heard a voice behind him.

  
“You don’t really mean that, do you?” asked Bob, quietly resting a hand on the guitarist’s shoulder.


	2. Ray's Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray makes an unpleasant discovery

Frank raised an eyebrow and pondered whether or not to reply to Bob’s comment. Bob was never one to make something out of nothing and he could be quite direct at times, not rude, but he knew how to get to the point. Another of Bob’s abilities and often endearing or annoying qualities – depending on your outlook – was that he was very astute and observant. He didn’t say much, but that just left him more time to listen and watch. Very little got past him, or, as in this case, away from him. Frank took a step forward to follow Gerard and Mikey but Bob squeezed his shoulder and held on firmly. It wasn’t exactly an unpleasant sensation, in that it didn’t hurt, but Frank felt very certain that he wouldn’t be allowed to take another step. Turning his head, Frank could see Bob’s face; his expression gave nothing away. Frank sighed.

“What?” he asked finally.  
“What was the matter out there?”  
Frank opened his mouth to object but Bob cut in:  
“Don’t tell me it was nothing or whatever crap you told Gerard. You were scared.”  
“I just didn’t like it,” Frank replied, “it’s different with the lights off.”  
“You nearly went out of shot, you were running so fast.”

  
Not fast enough! Frank thought to himself as he remembered the fear he felt surrounded by the trees in the dark with… with what? He didn’t really see anything, just a feeling, a horrible feeling.

  
“Well, they got the shot they wanted,” Frank replied, then added with relief, “and I’m done now.”  
Bob shook his head. “No, there’ll be shots with Gee too.”

  
Frank raised his eyes to the drummer once more; they were filled with disbelief and a deep sense of nervousness. Again, Bob’s observant streak kicked in and he realised instantly that Frank really was scared, but was, as yet, unwilling to discuss it.

  
“Don’t worry, Frankie,” Bob put his arm around his shoulder as he guided him forward to watch Ray’s scene. “I’m sure we’ll all feel the same when we’ve been in there, just unfortunate you went in first, so we don’t know yet.”

  
Frank smiled. Bob could have ridiculed him, but he didn’t and for that, he was grateful.

By the time they reached the small group behind the director’s chair, Ray was already in position, about twenty feet beyond the edge of the forest. Just as for Frank’s scene, cameras on hydraulic booms where placed in strategic places to capture all of Ray’s movements. Sitting beside the director was the camera operator, at a desk with a bank of three monitors with split screens showing the pictures from all six cameras. From the desk, he could operate all the cameras remotely, panning to follow Ray from one area to the next and zooming in whenever the need arose. In theory, provided Ray stayed within the prearranged boundary, the cameras would never lose sight of him.

“Okay, everybody!” Alan Frey, the director, called out. “Silence on set, please! Lights down.”

  
Ray’s gasped as he realised just how dark it truly was without the floodlights. It was going to be quite easy to look scared.

  
“Music?” Frey called next.

  
A sound engineer started the track at the point just four bars prior where the scene would fit. Everyone was counting the beats in their head, and even before Frey shouted the next word, Ray knew it was time to move.

  
“Action!”

Momentarily, Ray was frozen to the spot, his hands resting against a tree, his eyes wide, his chest heaving with panic. Two bars into the music, he ran. Frey smiled. He didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but it was perfectly in time with the music and it looked very convincing. Keeping within the prescribed boundaries, Ray darted from one place to another, glancing regularly over his shoulder. The performance seemed very much in time to the music and Frank smiled with relief that the same problems he encountered didn’t appear to be bothering Ray.

“He’s doing well,” Frank whispered to Bob.

  
Bob nodded with a smile; it was good to see Frank relaxing a little. He had seemed so tense earlier.

Ray placed his hands on a tree as he listened to the sounds around him; by now, if he was doing anything in time to the music, it was sheer coincidence. He pressed his cheek up against the back of his hand as he leaned against the tree. His eyes widened in alarm as he heard the low growling sound and unbeknownst to him, camera three moved in for a close up. Frey grinned his approval, believing his charges to be fine undiscovered talents in the field of acting. Little did he know that they weren’t acting. Ray turned his head to his right and immediately bolted. The song was coming to an end as ran just out of shot.

“Ray!” Mikey yelled as the guitarist disappeared abruptly.

All four band members, Frey and half the crew ran forward as the floodlights came on. Ray had disappeared from sight and as he was out of camera shot, with the lights down, it was impossible to know exactly what had happened.

Ray groaned as he tried to move and found his movements restricted. Now the lights had come on, he had a much better view of his predicament. Looking up, he saw first that he was at the bottom of a pit. It looked to be approximately seven feet deep, with only loose soil for walls – there was no way he could climb up. Glancing to his left, his jaw dropped as he realised he had narrowly missed falling directly onto a circle of wooden spikes sticking up approximately four feet from the bottom of the pit. Lying as he did between the wall and the spikes, he knew without much consideration that he had cheated death by inches. Further to his left, he could see that the last person to fall into this cleverly disguised trap had not been quite so lucky.

“Get me out of here!” he screamed, pushing himself away from the grinning skull a mere six inches from his own face.

  
Using the giant spikes to haul himself upright, Ray stood at the bottom of the pit looking upwards, awaiting rescue.

  
“Ray?” a voice called as the search party tried hard to find him.  
“I’m here!” he yelled, hoping that the sound of his voice would bring them closer. “In a pit, a fucking man-trap! Get me out of here!”

  
In a matter of moments a number of concerned faces stood at the edge of the pit, peering down at Ray’s pale and exhausted expression.

  
“Ray,” Frey began, “this actually looks pretty good. Would you mind singing along with your parts before we get you out?”

Even the ever practical Bob had to admit that the suggestion was outlandish, appalling and unbelievably insensitive.

“Alan,” Ray began through gritted teeth, which, in itself, should have alerted him that Ray was extremely unhappy with his suggestion. “I’ve narrowly missed being impaled on these spikes, I’m here with the last occupant, who, I gotta tell you, doesn’t look too good! And I hope you won’t take offence when I ask you,” Ray’s voice jumped from seething to screaming with barely concealed anger, “to get me the fuck out of here!”  
“Yeah, yeah!” Frey replied quickly in an attempt to calm Ray. “I’m sorry, wasn’t really thinking. We’ll get you out straight away.”  
“And now you know,” Bob turned to Frank, “how I got my leg half burnt off during the Famous Last Words shoot. Directors are so keen to get a good shot, reality doesn't always kick in until later.”

  
Frank nodded as Ray was hauled out of the pit, with extra care taken to ensure that he didn’t slip back onto the sharp wooden spikes.  
Gerard and Mikey hovered close to him making sure he was really unhurt. He was certainly badly shaken, but physically, apart from a slightly twisted ankle, he was fine.

  
“So we close the set,” Bob remarked.  
Frey glanced over. “We still have three hours of filming scheduled.”  
“No,” Bob replied sternly. “The set is closed until it’s verified as safe.”  
He glanced at Frank. “And until we’ve done a little checking of our own.”


	3. Try and Bust Something More Useful Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray is hurt, but getting very little sympathy

There was still a lot of activity going on as the five band members traipsed back to the trailers. Gerard looked around as Mikey helped Ray back so that he didn’t put too much weight on his swollen ankle. There was a lot of equipment to pack down and a most of the crew appeared sorely relieved to be finishing early. Sadly, they would all be back the following afternoon to set it all up again. Of course, Gerard understood that it had to be done, but it seemed such a terrible waste of time and effort.

As they reached the first trailer, Mikey helped Ray down onto a chair and knelt down to ease his left shoe off.

  
“No! No! No! No!!” Ray yelled, as a searing pain shot up his leg.

  
Mikey looked up at Ray without saying a word but wearing an expression that combined guilt, worry and shock. It was almost comical and even Ray had to smile.  
Gerard pulled his lips into a thin line and shook his head.

  
“It’s going to have to be cut off,” he announced.  
“My shoe?” Ray asked unhappily.  
“No,” Gerard replied, deadpan, “the leg.”  
“Can I keep the shoe?” Frank asked with a grin. “Seeing as you won’t be needing it.”

  
Ray rolled his eyes. He knew what they were trying to do and he appreciated it. For the first time since falling into the pit, he had stopped shaking and he could thank his friends for that. But right now, his throbbing and rapidly swelling foot needed attention, probably more than he had originally thought. He glanced down at Mikey who was still kneeling at his feet, but looked decidedly uncomfortable with actually doing anything – he simply did not want to be the one to make Ray yell like that again.

  
“Mister Toro,” a female voice at his side almost startled him, “my name’s Angela, I have first aid training, can I help you?”  
“Do you have a gentle touch and a bandage?” he asked smiling up at the shy and very polite woman.  
“Yes,” she laughed, suddenly feeling much more at ease, “I do.”  
“Mikey!” Ray used his good right foot to nudge the bassist to one side. “ Make way for the nice lady.”

  
Mikey sprang to his feet only too happy to let her take over. If Ray was going to scream… well, Mikey smiled to himself as he watched Ray’s face contort with agony as he held the scream inside.

  
“Does that hurt?” Angela asked without looking up.  
“No.” Ray’s voice was clipped and strained.

  
Mikey stepped behind Ray and placing his hands gently on the guitarist’s shoulders leaned in to his ear.

  
“Who are you trying to impress, Toro?” he chuckled.  
“Go away!” Ray snapped through clenched teeth.

  
Angela looked up, taken aback by the comment she had thought was aimed at her.

  
“No! Not you!” Ray jabbed a thumb in Mikey’s direction. “Him!”

  
Angela smiled.

  
“I’m nearly done,” she said as she pulled the bandage close, but not tight around his ankle, fastening it carefully with a safety pin.  
“How does that feel?” she asked, sitting back on her heels.  
“Feels good,” he nodded gratefully. “Thanks.”  
“Of course,” she spoke with all the seriousness she could muster, “you will have to be carried everywhere for a few days, but you have four strong friends to do that.”  
“What!” Gerard spluttered almost choking on his water.

  
Ray and Angela shared a laugh at his expense as she pushed herself to her feet.

  
“You will have to stay off it for a day or two, keep it raised, put ice on it. That sort of thing.”  
Ray frowned. “I don’t think I have that luxury, we’re only filming for three days.”  
“Oh, yes,” Angela paused to think. “Okay, well I’ll see if I can find you something to support it better for tomorrow.”  
“Thanks!” Ray cheered.  
“No problem!” she smiled and gave a small wave as she headed back to the second trailer.

  
As one, four grinning heads turned to face Ray.

  
“Toro made a friend!” Frank sang in a the fashion of a playground rhyme.  
“No,” Ray shook his head forlornly. “She only wants me for my ankle.”  
“Try and bust something more useful then!” Gerard grinned impishly.

“So!” Alan Frey, the director cut in.  
“It’s twisted,” Ray explained simply.  
“What is?” Frey asked, oblivious to the problem.  
“My ankle,” Ray explained with a degree of annoyance peppering his tone, “I thought you were coming over to ask how I am.”  
“Oh, yeah,” Frey spluttered, “of course…” he added, trying to recover from the thoughtless omission. “But also to say we’re going to have a full square fifty feet checked and redrawn. You’ll be perfectly safe.”  
Ray pulled a face. “I feel so confident in your hands.”

“The car’s here,” one of the runners called to the small gathering. “I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”  
“Thanks, Dave,” Gerard smiled back, relieved himself to be heading back to the hotel a little early. Looking at Ray, now struggling to stand, he frowned. “I think you should get that looked at by a doctor, Ray.”  
Ray nodded unhappily. “I think you may be right.”  
“I’ll call ahead from the car and ask them to get one in for you for when we arrive.”  
“You will be all right for filming tomorrow, won’t you?” Frey asked, earning dirty looks from each band member.  
“You better pray it’s not broken, Alan,” Bob warned. “Or that Brian’s not feeling too litigious when we let him know!”  
“Wh… er… No,” the director stammered in reply, “there’s no need to get lawyers involved, I’m sure we can sort this out amicably. Can’t we?”

  
Bob turned back to look at the director, having watched Ray being helped into the car looking decidedly uncomfortable as he sat down.

  
“Alan,” Bob paused as he searched for the right words, “I doubt we’d be so angry if you remotely cared about anything other than filming!”  
“It’s my job,” he complained.  
“Yeah, and we’re paying you!” Bob leaned in. “It’s also your job to secure the location and so far, that hasn’t gone particularly well, has it?”  
“How could I know there were holes in the ground?” he argued.  
Bob scowled. “That wasn’t a hole,” he snapped, “that was a lethal trap! And God knows what else is lurking out there! The buck stops with you, Alan and you had better go over this whole place with a fine tooth comb by three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, because two hours before filming, I’m coming back here to do my own search and if I find so much as a rabbit hole, you’re out!”

Turning on his heels, Bob stalked off towards the car, leaving the director red-faced and worried, but, at the same time thankful that Bob had at least had the conversation in private and not humiliated him in front of his crew.

“What was that about?” asked Ray as Bob joined them in the car.  
“Just a few home truths,” Bob replied quietly; still angry but not wanting Ray to hear how much.

The journey to the hotel was a short one that would take less than twenty minutes, and was taken in virtual silence. It was as if the full impact of what had happened had only just hit them. Frank, in particular, kept his own personal concerns to himself. Ray had almost died on set and it really seemed put his own problems into perspective. Besides, he had long since decided to believe that he had imagined everything.  
As the car pulled up outside the hotel, they were surprised to see a wheelchair waiting outside for Ray.

  
“Who arranged that?” Ray asked aware that by now he could barely move his ankle let alone walk, but also knowing that that detail had been kept from the others.  
“Me,” Gerard replied uncertainly, “is that okay?”  
“Thanks, man,” Ray smiled thankful for the gesture.

A wave of exhaustion washed over them as they exited the car and followed Ray into the hotel where the doctor was already waiting. Mikey and Gerard flopped down onto one of the hotel lobby’s many sofas as Ray was wheeled into an office accompanied by the doctor. Frank was about to join them and crash on the sofa opposite when Bob tapped his left arm. Frank looked up at Bob expectantly but his only reply was to back away a few paces and indicate for the guitarist to follow. Joining him a few feet away, Frank looked up at the drummer.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly as the two brothers now dozed lightly on the sofa.  
“I chewed out Alan pretty bad before.”  
Frank shrugged. “He didn’t do his job properly, he could’ve killed Ray. Besides, it’s not like he even cared!”  
“Yeah,” Bob agreed, “yeah, I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it. I know he told us that he was going to check and clear fifty feet square, but, I’m going back to check.”  
“Now?” Frank’s eyes widened at the idea, it was two in the morning already.  
Bob chuckled.  
“No! Tomorrow afternoon. I want to make sure it’s okay.” Bob paused trying to read Frank’s expression. “Do you want to come?”  
“When?”  
“It’d be mid afternoon.”

  
Frank’s expression lightened – daylight!

  
“Yeah,” he replied with a degree of uncertainty, then more firmly. “Yeah, sure.”  
“Frank,” Bob paused as he weighed up whether to ask the question or not. “What really scared you in the woods?”  
Frank’s heart missed a beat at the question; Bob was scarily observant at times. Taking a deep breath, Frank nodded, acknowledging Bob’s tenacity.  
“I’ll go with you. If there is anything, I won’t need to tell you.”  
“Okay,” he nodded. “Makes sense,” Bob added with a smile.

  
To their right, the door to the office opened and Ray emerged with the doctor pushing the wheelchair. Thanking the doctor for arriving so promptly at so late an hour, Ray turned back to Bob and Frank who had now joined him as the doctor headed back to the main reception.  
“Well?” Bob asked hopeful for a positive reply.

  
“It’s a mild sprain,” Ray replied, his shoulders hunched forward, his face wearing a deep frown. “I have to keep off it for a couple of days. Alan’s going to be fuming.”

  
Bob gave a small laugh.

  
“No, he’s not. Don’t worry about him.”

  
Ray knew that Bob had spoken to him and that the discussion didn’t appear to have gone well. But there was little he could do to remedy the situation, he was ordered to rest for a minimum of two days and he knew they would make sure of it.

  
“Come on,” Bob deliberately lifted his tone as he glanced towards Gerard and Mikey, now slumped on each other’s shoulders, with Gerard snoring lightly. “Let’s wake the sleeping beauties and let’s all get some rest.”


	4. The Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys hear about the legend and Gerard is excited

A knock on the door roused Bob from his slumber. Vaguely aware of the sound, he lazily opened his eyes and allowed his head to loll to the right. He couldn’t see the door directly from the bed, but he was at least looking in the right direction. Another knock, louder than the last, tried to pull him from his much needed rest.

“Bob!”

  
If he had been standing, his shoulders would have visibly sagged, but as it was, he merely exhaled loudly.

  
“Come on, Bob!” the voice called again.

  
It was Frank. He was a touch too lively. Bob rolled over; so what else was new? He smiled with relief as the knocking finally stopped and pushed his face back into the warm and inviting pillow. The drapes were closed to keep out the sun. Awake filming for half the night in the woods made for a long lie in the next day at the best of times, and the previous night had been particularly trying. Momentarily, he felt a pang of guilt as he realised that he still hadn’t spoken to Ray to ask about his ankle, but the mattress had, by now, almost moulded to his shape and he was simply too comfortable to move. Later, he promised himself as he felt himself drift towards another dream, later.

*

Frank drifted down the corridor and gently knocked on Ray’s door. At first, there was no reply and he checked his watch again. It was after two, where was everyone?

“Frank?”

  
The young guitarist turned to see Mikey peering around the door of his room. Smiling at the odd sight of what appeared to be the bassist’s dismembered head floating half way up the doorframe, he loped over to join him.

  
“We’re all in here,” Mikey explained as frank followed him into the room, “well, except Bob, but no one can wake the dead!”  
“I know; I just tried.” Frank chuckled. As he walked further inside the room, he noticed Gerard and Ray on the balcony having what might have been a late lunch or a very late breakfast.

  
Gerard waved; unable to speak, as his mouth was busy chewing on whatever goodies they had decided to feast upon. Frank’s stomach immediately rumbled and he wondered if they had anything he could snack on.

  
“Hey, Toro,” Frank called as Mikey closed the door and joined him by the balcony door. “How are you feeling today?”  
“I’m okay,” Ray smiled, nodding under the table to where his foot rested on a cushion on the opposite chair. “It’s not easy to keep it up like this, I suddenly realise how much I use it and how flexible I’m not!”

  
Frank laughed at the awkward phrasing.

  
“You don’t move around enough,” he replied absently as he checked the table for food he could steal, finally settling on a piece of toast. “I mean, look at me on stage…”  
“We all look at you on stage, Frankie,” Ray commented, “and none of us can believe what we see!”

  
Frank pouted as he considered how to take the comment. Finally deciding on a cheerful chuckle, he took a bite of the toast, nodding with approval and looking for more.

“Heard anything from Alan?” Frank asked, allowing his eyes to wander over the table again and not seeing anything he fancied, rose from his seat and selected an apple from a nearby bowl.  
“Not yet,” Gerard shrugged checking his watch, “did you hear, Bob gave him until three to have everything sorted?”  
Frank nodded. “I’m going back with him to check the site before it goes dark, that’s why I was trying to wake him.”

  
Ray glanced up.

  
“Rather you than me, Frankie.”  
“Oh, he’s not that bad!” Frank laughed at the image Bob had on first waking.

  
Ray laughed at the reply, and specifically the misunderstanding.

  
“No!” he shook his head, but then became inexplicably subdued. “I mean… I, well…”  
“What?” asked Frank, his brow creased with concern.  
“It’s nothing,” Ray replied.

  
Mikey had remained silent the whole time but could remain so no longer.

  
“Ray, why don’t…”  
“It was nothing Mikey,” Ray cut in, now feeling somewhat foolish.

Ray had confided his fears to Mikey the previous night, while it was fresh in his mind. But now, in the light of day, it seemed so ridiculous and unreal.

“Ray heard…” Mikey began only to be cut off.  
“Mikey!”  
“Growling?” Frank asked quietly. “That’s what scared me.”

The room was reduced to an unnatural stillness and Ray turned disbelieving eyes towards his friend.

  
“You heard it too?” Ray asked, somewhat taken aback by the revelation.

  
Frank nodded; his face now pale as he realised that it was definitely not his imagination.

  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Gerard cut in, confused. “How come I’m the only one who doesn’t know about this?”  
“Well,” Ray replied, “both Frank and I heard it and I mentioned it to Mikey.”  
“Okay,” Gerard waved, realising that the question addressed nothing that would explain what had happened. “Did you see anything?”  
“No,” Frank admitted.  
“Me neither,” Ray added, “but it was really dark, Gee.”  
“How come you didn’t mention this?”  
“Well,” Frank frowned, “I felt stupid, like you’d think I was some sort of kid, frightened of the dark.”  
“For fuck’s sake Frank, why would that be stupid? I’m terrified of needles, do you think I’m stupid?”  
“No,” Frank sighed, “but I didn’t know it was real, I thought I’d imagined it.”  
Ray nodded his agreement. “Me too.”  
“Look, guys, we already know the wood is dangerous, perhaps there’s more to it?” Gerard offered.  
“There is,” Mikey offered quietly.  
“What do you mean there is?” his brother asked.  
Mikey shrugged. “One of the runners told me. He lives locally, he told me the legend.”

Three pairs of ears pricked up at the words. Suddenly the location of their video shoot sounded exciting. Previously, it had been lethally dangerous, but now that a local legend had been introduced, it began to take on the mantle of something altogether more fascinating and intriguing.

“So?” Frank prompted taking a seat once more and staring in anticipation at Mikey.  
“Well, there are two versions of the story with different people named as the bad guy, but the story is basically the same.” Mikey hunched his shoulders slightly, surprised to suddenly become the centre of attention. “In the seventeen hundreds, two brothers lived in a house nearby, a big mansion. It’s in ruins now, a fire, I think, but some of the outbuildings are still in pretty good shape. One of the maids, well, the master of the house, or the brother, paid a lot of unwelcome attention to her and she was terrified of him. One day, she’d had all she could take and she tried to stand up to him. When she didn’t submit, he beat her pretty badly. She got away from him, but she was scared for her life. She made a break for it and ran from the house and into the woods, but he followed her.”  
“He killed her?” asked Ray.  
Mikey shook his head. “No, she actually managed to escape through the woods and reach the town. He wasn’t so lucky. The townspeople found him the next day savaged by wolves. Now, it’s said that if a man goes into the woods after dark the chase is re-enacted and his spirit sets ghostly wolves on the guy in revenge.”  
“Awesome!” Gerard cried, his eyes glistening with excitement.  
“Not awesome!” Frank argued. “Gee, we heard the wolves! I felt someone or something chasing me!”  
“We gotta get this in the video!” Gerard was no longer listening. In his mind he was rewriting the video plot to somehow include the legend.  
“Gee!” Frank yelled.

  
Gerard lowered his eyes and began to actually concentrate on what Frank was saying.

  
“What?” he asked innocently. “It’s not real, Frank.”  
“It felt real enough,” Frank replied with a little anger in his tone.  
“It’s true, Gee, we both heard it.” Ray added, he hoped, convincingly.

  
Gerard looked thoughtful for a moment before glancing at his watch.

  
“Frank, you rouse Bob van Winkle, go down to the woods and see what you can find before nightfall and we’ll go to the library, see if we can find out any more and we’ll join you on the set.”  
“Are you serious?” Frank asked, bewildered by his sudden enthusiasm.  
“Of course I am!” he replied grinning broadly.  
“But you didn’t think it was real,” Ray commented.  
“I still don’t,” Gerard clarified with a mischievous smile, “but it’s interesting and it beats sitting around!”  
Mikey sighed quietly to himself and muttered under his breath. “Great! Just what we need, ghosts!”


	5. So, the wood is safe now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob and Frank check the wood before continuing with the video

As the car pulled up at the video set, Frank looked out of the window to see the cameras being set up and the crew working hard to set up all the required lighting, sound and monitors with their associated miles of cabling.

Frank and Bob stepped from the car and watched the activity from behind the trailers. As yet, hardly anyone had seen them arrive and they were able to take an objective view of everything around them. Shortly before they had left, Alan Frey, the director, had called to confirm that the area he had promised was confirmed safe and ready to use. It seemed, in the cold light of day, a little harsh to check up on him by walking the area, but still very possibly a necessary precaution.

“How’s Ray?”

Both musicians turned their heads at the question. Neither had even heard anyone approach, but now they noticed that Angela, the lady who had treated Ray when first hurt, stood next to them. Frank smiled.

“He’s okay,” he nodded. “A mild strain, he needs to keep off it for a couple of days, so we’ll probably end up extending the shoot for a day, maybe.”  
“What I did…” she hesitated. “It didn’t make him worse did it?”  
“No!” Frank reassured her. “Just what he needed. The doctor did the same thing. Only difference was he was able to insist he stayed off it.”  
“That’s good,” she sighed. “Alan’s been going mental today trying to get the area checked and cleared. He’s only just finished, he’s been at it since dawn.”  
“Fifty square yards? Since dawn?” Bob asked incredulously.  
Angela nodded gravely.  
“He found three more traps,” she admitted with her eyes lowered. “Two pits and a bear trap. One of them within the original area you were using.”

  
Bob took a deep breath, even though he had pushed the matter, he genuinely believed that nothing else would be found. This was a real surprise.

  
“But he’s sure there’s nothing else?”  
“He’s been looking for eight hours, he’s exhausted. He got no sleep last night, and he’s worked through from dawn. The shoot will take us through until four in the morning. He really feels bad about Ray.”

  
Bob raised his eyebrows. Perhaps he had been wrong about Frey? The man had behaved like an insensitive idiot, but did that actually make him one? Could he just have come across badly?

  
“He mustn’t know I said that though,” Angela added. “He cares passionately, but he has his pride.”  
Bob nodded. “Okay, maybe I was too harsh on him.”  
Angela smiled.  
“Frank! Bob!” a voice called; it was Frey. “I didn’t see you arrive. Tell me, how is Ray, is he going to be okay? I mean, not for the shoot, I just… is he okay?”  
Bob looked with sympathetic eyes. The director looked tired and haggard and in need of a very long and very deep sleep.  
“He’ll be fine,” Bob confirmed. “A mild sprain, nothing more.”  
“That’s good news,” he sighed. “Please pass on my best to him and…”  
“Alan,” Bob sighed, “we’re not going to fire you.”

  
The relief on Frey’s face was blatant.

  
“I… I’ve cleared the area and it’s ready for you.”  
“Thanks, Alan,” Bob nodded. “Why don’t you get a couple of hours sleep till the shoot?”

  
Frey nodded gratefully as Bob and Frank headed into the activity between the trailers and the start of the wood.

Standing now at the edge of the woods looking in, Bob and Frank couldn’t help but see how different it looked during the day. The floor of the woods was wild and green with overgrown moss and ferns. Above them, the canopy of leaves and branches allowed in just enough light to soften the stark edges of the tall trees and give it a romantic and mystical air. They heard a multitude of birds singing and warbling their own individual and characteristic songs and occasionally the flutter of wings as they flew from one tree to the next. Frank sighed. It seemed so implausible that this wood turned so terrifying after dark and it was then that he realised that it was really, most likely all down to his imagination. Of course eating away in the back of his mind was that fact that Ray too had heard the growling and the local legend only seemed to confirm what he had already feared.

“Why are we here?” Bob asked.  
“You wanted to go over the set to make sure it was safe,” Frank replied, still staring into the wood; at once transfixed by its daytime beauty and its night time horrors.  
“I know why I’m here,” Bob corrected, “I just don’t know what Gerard wants us to do.”

  
Frank thought about it for a moment. He couldn’t actually remember Gerard being specific about what he wanted.

  
“He just said, ‘see what you can find’ or something like that.”  
“Well, I don’t know what to make of that,” Bob shrugged, “I’m going to do what I came for and maybe, if we see anything else, we can let him know. Sound okay?”  
“Works for me,” Frank replied with a grin. “Okay, shall we check it’s safe?”

  
Bob nodded.

  
“I’ll take the left, you take the right.”

Heading into the undergrowth, Frank stumbled once or twice on an overgrown vine or visible root, which occasionally took him by surprise. He knew he really had to be more careful, if any traps were lurking under foot, he needed to be ready for them and not to stumble blindly in as Ray had done. After all, he might not be quite so lucky as Ray.  
Staying to the left to avoid a fallen tree, Frank tried to step over what remained of the branches. Catching his foot on a small branch, he stumbled and fell forward only regaining his footing before he completely lost his balance. Trying to reset his balance, he moved his right foot forward, trying to place his feet a shoulder width apart. As he did, he felt something pull against his ankle. It was the slightest of tugs that he knew he had only felt because he was standing in one place and not still walking. It drew his attention and his eyes glanced down to see the wire pulled tight across his path.

_Oh no!_

He heard it first; a whooshing sound that filled his ears as it got closer. Turning terrified eyes, he saw the branch as it hurtled in his direction. Frank screamed in fear and pain as the long tensioned length of wood sprang back into place, slamming into him with force and sweeping him off his feet. Unable to avoid it, Frank was lifted from his feet and was projected at speed into a nearby tree. Bouncing off, a severely dazed Frank continued to roll quickly down the gentle slope. Beyond the noise of the snapping twigs and the crackle of dried leaves as he rolled helplessly, he could vaguely hear Bob shouting and running to his rescue. His roll was cut short with a sickening thud as his head connected sharply with a boulder roughly halfway down the slope. Skidding to an abrupt halt, Frank lay pale and motionless in the grass, blood trickling from his mouth.


	6. Where has Frank gone?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The legend begins to play out

Bob slid to his knees at Frank’s side. For a few moments all he could do was stare; he had never seen anyone look quite so pale.

“Frank?” Bob queried in panic.

  
Paler.

  
Grey.

  
“Frank!” he yelled as he realised that the young guitarist was no longer breathing. “Help! Someone, please help!”

There was no time to wait; he had to perform CPR. He had covered the basics so long ago at high school and he prayed he remembered enough – Frank was relying on him. Setting himself above his friend, his hands resting one over the other, Bob pumped Frank’s chest at what he hoped was a regular enough rhythm. Breaking off, he tilted Frank’s head and pinching his nose, he breathed hard into his mouth. He shook as he realised that he was snatching his breaths and truly felt he had insufficient air in his own lungs to be effective.

“Frankie, please breathe!” he cried as he pressed on his rib cage once more.

  
From the edge of the woods he could hear voices and the sound of running. The voices sounded familiar and within seconds he could see Gerard, Mikey, Angela and Alan running frantically towards them. Leaning down to breathe into Frank’s mouth once more, Bob noticed with surprise as tears fell onto the guitarist’s cheeks and it was a few seconds before he realised that they were his own.

“Bob,” Angela took Bob’s hands into her own to stop him as he sat up and readied himself to pump Frank’s heart once more. “Bob, he’s breathing now. See?”

  
Bob turned his eyes to her; he had no idea what to do next. Angela smiled reassuringly and gently touched Bob’s tear dampened cheek.

  
“Look,” she said, encouraging the drummer to turn his eyes back to Frank. “The colour’s back in his lips, he’s breathing. You saved his life, you did it.”

  
Bob couldn’t speak; he could only stare in shock.

  
“I’ve called an ambulance,” Gerard announced. “What do we do?”  
“Nothing,” Angela insisted, “we can’t move him, just in case he’s hurt. But we have to keep him warm.”

  
Gerard pulled off his coat and covered his unconscious friend.

  
“I… I’m sorry,” Frey stammered. “I’m so sorry, I checked every inch. I…”

  
Gerard placed a hand on the director’s shoulder. Shortly after they had arrived, Angela had informed them of the efforts Frey had gone to in order to ensure their safety, but it had looked as if Frank had wandered far beyond the limits of the fifty yard checked and cleared zone.  
Bob shivered as he remained kneeling at Frank’s side willing him to open his eyes. He was barely aware of Mikey settling himself next to him and placing his own coat over his shoulders.

“I think you should go with Frank to the hospital, Bob,” Mikey said comfortingly, still without obtaining any reaction from the deeply shocked drummer.

The sound of the sirens filled the approaching dusk air and the paramedics were soon edging their way through the trees with a specialist stretcher designed for the possibility that the occupant had a broken neck or spine. It was an awkward location and the task of moving Frank onto the supportive stretcher seemed agonisingly slow. Helping Bob back up the slope, Gerard decided that he would accompany the pair in the ambulance, whilst the car would take Ray and Mikey.  
As Frank was brought to the open door of the ambulance, Ray, who had been forced to wait nearby, gasped in surprise as he saw his friend’s pale form.

“Gerard!” he cried. “Is… is he…?”

The singer turned a deeply troubled expression towards Ray.

“He’s alive… but I don’t know any more than that,” he admitted. “Can you go in the car with Mikey?”

  
Ray nodded as Gerard climbed inside the ambulance. Stunned by what he had seen and heard, Ray waited impatiently with Mikey as the car was called back to the set.

*

_It should have felt all wrong, but it didn’t. As strange as the surroundings seemed, Frank knew instinctively where he was. Seated opposite the impressive fireplace in Gerard Way’s magnificent eighteenth century mansion house on this small, but profitable estate, he drained his glass as Gerard stoked the fire before making himself comfortable once more. The estate was basically a series of small farms producing a wide range of crops and rearing livestock. From vegetables to apples, wheat to cows, pigs and sheep, the farmers dealt with it all but Gerard owned and managed the land._

_“So, Gerard,” Frank paused to smile as Angela, Gerard’s maid, refilled his glass with a delicious full-bodied French Cabernet Sauvignon. “I know something’s wrong. Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”_

  
_Frank took a sip of the wine and smiled again as it slipped smoothly down his throat. Gerard allowed himself a small laugh as he sunk deeper into the armchair and stretched his legs out fully to take advantage of the heat from the blazing fire in the hearth._

  
_“You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?” Gerard replied with a knowing smile, believing he knew what the reply would be._  
_“Almost,” Frank replied to his surprise._

  
_Gerard turned a puzzled gaze to his friend as he waited for Angela to return the wine decanter to the cabinet near the far wall before leaving the room._  
_“What does ‘almost’ mean? What can’t you work out? I’m an open book,” Gerard took a sip of his wine as he waited for Frank to reply but he merely shook his head._

  
_“You know my thoughts on the matter, Gerard, don’t make me go through it all again.”_

  
_Gerard sighed heavily and shook his head sadly._

  
_“I know, I know but have I ever said I disagree with you?”_

  
_Frank frowned at the words before placing his glass on the table beside him and walking over to the fireplace._

  
_“No,” he said carefully, placing his right hand on the mantelpiece “but you don’t do anything about it either!”_

  
_Gerard turned his eyes upward to meet his friend’s gaze._

  
_“He’s my brother, Frank, what am I meant to do? I can’t just throw him onto the street can I?”_  
_“He’s a lazy, good for nothing, son of a…”_  
_“Hey!” Gerard interrupted. “That’s my mother you’re talking about too, you know!”_  
_“It’s a figure of speech, Gerard!” Frank heaved a sigh. “But you’ve got to do something about him before he runs this estate into the ground.”_  
_“I still run the estate, Frankie.” Gerard corrected. “I give him an allowance, that’s all. He has no responsibility, not since he tried to con the townspeople with a bogus tax on livestock.”_

  
_Frank sighed and flapped his arms at his side in frustration._

  
_“And do you really think he’s stopped trying to think of ways to extort money out of people? You know as well as I do, he’s stealing from you!”_  
_“You can back up that statement, can you, Iero?”_

_The tall, slender figure of Mikey Way stood framed in the dim light from beyond the doorway. Leaning his left arm against the frame at roughly shoulder height, he stood with one foot casually resting on the toe of his boot behind the other. He was dressed fashionably and expensively for the day, in a fine silk and cotton shirt and cravat, close fitting breeches, an impressively embroidered waistcoat, a long black wool frock coat and knee high boots. Gerard noted with an internal sigh that the boots and coat were new and that, no doubt, he would be expected to pay for them._

_“Oh, don’t you worry, Mikey, I’ll prove it!” Frank snapped in return. “And when I do…”_  
_“Hell will freeze over before you get anything on me, Frankie, boy!” Mikey sneered in reply as he stepped menacingly towards Frank. “Now then, let’s see, insulting one of your hosts in his own home. That’s not very polite, is it? Why don’t you be a good boy and apologise?”_  
 _“To you!” Frank spat._  
 _“Enough,” Gerard spoke quietly but firmly; his tone barely disguised the stress of trying to handle his wayward, wilful and insufferable brother._  
 _“Oh, look,” Mikey grinned, “our lord and master’s upset. You’ll have to console him Frankie, or whatever it is you get up to when you’re alone.”_

_  
Gerard was up and out of his seat in the barest fraction of a moment, a furious glare spread across his face as he pushed Mikey up against the wall with one hand and gripped his fingers tightly, but not dangerously around his throat._

  
_“You’d better watch your mouth, Mikey!” Gerard ranted. “Just because I don’t try to bed every woman in town… I don’t have to explain myself to you!”_  
 _“Aren’t you overreacting?” Mikey’s grin widened, despite the squeeze of Gerard’s fingers on his neck. “If you’ve nothing to hide?”_  
 _“You’re my brother and I promised our parents I’d look after you, but so help me, Mikey, if you try my patience one more time and I’ll…”_  
 _“You’ll what?” Mikey snapped back, taking a step forward he swiped Gerard’s hand away from his throat. “You won’t do a thing to me!” his grin became a condescending sneer. “You can’t, or, my dearest brother, I’ll tell everyone!”_

_  
Gerard stood back, still glaring but with an element of defeat glistening in his eyes._

  
_“Get out of my sight, Mikey!”_   
_“Of course,” he laughed, “I’ll leave you two alone.”_

__*__

__  
__ The doctor entered the private waiting room that Gerard, Mikey and Ray had gathered in. Looking up expectantly at the doctor, Gerard broke the ice.

“Are they going to be okay?” he prompted as the doctor took more than a comfortable amount of time to speak.  
“Mister Bryar will be fine. He’s in shock and we’ve sedated him. He’ll need to rest, but he’ll make a quick recovery.”  
“Frank?” Ray pushed.

  
The doctor nodded. “This is a strange case. May I?” he asked, pointing to a chair.

  
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Gerard replied absently, “what’s strange?”

  
The doctor took a deep breath as he thought about how to explain the dilemma.

  
“Does he have anything on his mind right now? Any big dilemmas?”

  
All three musicians glanced briefly at each other and shook their heads.

  
“No,” Ray replied. “Why?”  
“Basically, he’s unresponsive and in a coma…”

  
Gasps of concern escaped the mouths of all three friends.

  
“B…but, he… he’s going to be okay? Isn’t he?” Mikey asked, his fingers curling around his inhaler.  
“There is one complication,” the doctor went on to explain. “Even though he’s in a coma, his brain activity is unusually high, and would be even for a conscious person.”  
“What does that mean?” asked Gerard, unsure how to react to the statement.  
“We see this rarely. It’s as if he’s dreaming, but to him it’s very real. Whether he pulls through may very well depend on the outcome of the dream.”  
“Can we do anything?” asked Ray.  
“I honestly don’t know,” the doctor admitted, “but I’ve heard reports that what you say to him in this condition may get incorporated into the dream, so I would advise extreme caution.”

  
The three musicians nodded, at a loss as to how to deal with the news.

  
“I’m Doctor Wendel,” he said rising from the seat. “If you need me, just get a nurse to page me.”


	7. Dream Mikey shows his true colours

_“Oh.”_  
  
_Such a small word to hold so much depth of turmoil and emotion and Frank’s simple statement expressed it all and more._  
_Gerard slumped back in the chair and stared unblinking into the fire, watching the flames licking the walls of the hearth, the tiny sparks dancing in the grate and the ever changing flicker of reds, oranges and yellows. The room was silent apart from the crackle of the fire and finally Gerard’s resigned sigh._  
  
_“Okay, so you wanted to know why I don’t do anything about him, now you know.”_  
  
_By now Gerard’s still unblinking, staring eyes were drying from the constant exposure to the heat of the flames and they began to sting. Finally tearing his eyes away, he looked down to his left arm hopeful that Frank wouldn’t notice as his eyes filled with water, partly from excessive dryness but partly from the agony of the situation. Frank knelt at the side of the chair and placed his hand hesitantly over Gerard’s._  
  
_“But you can deny it can’t you?” Frank tried to reassure him. “Let’s face it, no one trusts him, who’s going to believe anything he says?”_  
_Gerard sighed heavily. “He doesn’t have to say anything.”_  
_“What do you mean?” Frank asked sitting back on his heels._

_  
Gerard turned his gaze down to his free hand and in an attempt not to have to look up, spent the next minute examining the lines on his fingers closely._

_  
“Gerard?” Frank prompted. “Is it true?” he asked with an edge of disbelief to his tone._

_  
Gerard laughed mirthlessly._

_  
“No,” he shook his head, “no, it’s not true. Come on, Frank, you know me. But if even you have to ask if it’s true, why would anyone else disbelieve him?”  
“For the reasons I said before!” Frank replied, now with more certainty than ever._  
_Gerard shook his head sadly. “He’s paid a man to say I was with him.”_  
_“He’s done what!”_

_  
Gerard nodded._

  
_“And of course, the irony is, it was with my money!”_  
_“Gerard,” Frank was at a loss, “I don’t know what to say.”_  
_“I’m trapped,” he shrugged helplessly. “I’m being blackmailed by my own brother. Everything he has is total fabrication, but what can I do?”_

_  
Frank exhaled angrily and crinkled his nose with distaste._

_  
“Do you have a dungeon?”_

_  
Gerard shook his head and gave a hollow laugh at the idea._

_  
“I’m serious!” Frank insisted angrily, but with absolute conviction._

_  
Gerard cut short the laugh and stared with an expression that was almost blank, but still held an element of disbelief._

  
_“Frank, I can’t lock up my own brother!”_   
_“Yes you can! You’d be surprised what you could do to that bastard and how many people would cheer when you do it!”_

_  
Frank was on his feet now, pacing like a caged lion. Furious, fit to explode._

  
_“Frank,” Gerard began quietly, “I promised I’d take care of him. I give him an allowance, I pay for his clothes and board, and I keep the peace in whatever way I can.”_  
_“You mean you let him walk all over you!”_  
_“He’s the only family I’ve got now.”_

_  
Frank pulled his lips into a thin line as he considered Gerard’s words._

  
_“Well, you deserve better!”_  
_Gerard smiled weakly. “Thanks.”_  
  
*  
  
As much as he disliked the situation, Ray realised the practicalities of continuing to use the wheelchair. It came down to sheer embarrassment. Not that wheelchair use itself was embarrassing, but that all that was wrong was a mild sprain – he felt quite foolish and worried that it would be considered as a gross overreaction. He shuddered to think what the Press would make of it or people everywhere who had no choice but to use a wheelchair – would they think he was mocking them with so trivial an injury? The fact of the matter was that this was the easiest option for moving around quickly and for a speedy recovery as he could have his ankle permanently raised. It was practical and it made sense, but it didn’t stop him feeling uncomfortable about it. Of course the irony was that it was probably his worrying that was the overreaction.  
  
The three musicians headed in silence down to the hospital café; each of them considering their own interpretation of Doctor Wendel’s words. Each of them frantically forming ideas before casting them aside as they realised all the flaws inherent within them. There didn’t appear to be a single simple plan of action available to them. There was only one possible route open to them to resolve the dilemma – coffee. Gerard settled the tray of coffees down on the table and slid into the seat beside Mikey as everyone helped themselves to a steaming mug. For a few minutes more, the three friends sat in virtual silence, with only the occasional sound of a cup tapping back down onto the plastic table, or a sipping noise.  
  
“Is he saying that we shouldn’t even speak to him?” Mikey finally broke the silence.  
“No,” Gerard shook his head, “I don’t think so, just that we have to be careful what we say.”

  
Ray frowned as he thought about it. The more he did the more concerned he grew.

  
“I think this could be a real problem,” he offered resting his forearms on the table and leaning forward. “If we don’t know what he’s dreaming about, how can we be careful enough?”

  
The idea presented hit a nerve with the two brothers and both stared back in terrified bewilderment.

  
“Go on,” Gerard replied, desperately hoping he’d misunderstood.  
“Well, it’s not just what we say, it could be what we do too. Say I go in his room and hold his hand, then, when I go to leave I let go. Well, what if he’s dreaming that he’s about to fall, but I’m holding onto his hand. When I let go, will he fall?”

  
Gerard closed his eyes as he took in Ray’s words. It was much worse than he had imagined. He had understood what the doctor had meant about things being incorporated into his dream, but had never actually considered that something so naively simple and innocuous like that could actually be highly dangerous and even potentially fatal.  
  
*  
  
_Mikey smiled slyly as he stepped away from the door having heard every word of Gerard and Frank’s conversation. It served his purpose that his brother was a little afraid of him. Oh, he was willing to back down just enough not to antagonise Gerard too much. Even he knew that there was a limit to his brother’s patience, but he was whittling away at Gerard’s confidence, and using his money to his own ends. Frank had been right, he was stealing from the Estate; how else was he supposed to live on the pitiful allowance Gerard gave him? By the day’s standards, Gerard had insisted, it was more than generous, but it was meagre compared with what he needed to live in the style he wanted. He scowled as he thought about his brother lording it over him, hoarding his wealth and refusing him, as he saw it, his rightful inheritance._  
  
_“It won’t be long now, Gerard,” he muttered angrily. “Enjoy it while you can!”_  
  
_Turning to walk away, Mikey’s head pulled up sharply as he saw Angela, the maid, standing only a few feet behind him holding a bottle of wine brought fresh from the cellar._  
  
_“What are you looking at?” he snapped. “How long have you been there?”_  
_“Just arrived, Sir,” came the quiet, meek reply._  
_“Is that so?” he asked taking an intimidating step towards her. His lips curled up into a smile, but his eyes remained cold. “What did you hear?”_  
_Angela shook her head quickly, nervously. “Nothing, Sir.”_  
  
_Mikey cupped his hand around her neck and pushed her back against the wall and pressing his lips forcefully and painfully against hers. She clenched her jaw tightly as he tried to force his tongue into her mouth and was refused access. Squirming and wriggling against the wall, Angela cried out as best she could without opening her mouth and eventually, denied entry, Mikey was forced to give up and pull back. Furious, he swiped the back of his hand across her cheek. Crying out in pain, she dropped the bottle. The glass shattered, spilling wine all over the floor, her dress and Mikey’s boots._  
  
_“You stupid bitch!” he yelled. Now livid with rage, Mikey saw red and pushing her back against the wall with his left hand raised his other to strike her once more._  
_“Don’t you dare lay a finger on her!” Gerard shouted from the now open doorway._  
_“Oh! And you’ll let the clumsy bitch off with this will you? Look what she’s done! These boots are brand new, hand made with Italian leather!”_  
_“And I paid for them, so I’ll decide if it’s a problem!” Gerard snapped._

  
_Mikey glowered in return, pointing an accusatory finger at his brother._

  
_“Your days of embarrassing me in front of the servants are numbered, Gerard. Remember that!”_

  
_Turning sharply away, Mikey stormed down the corridor, his coat flapping behind him._   _Gerard sighed as he tried to calm himself._

  
_“Are you all right, Angela?” he asked kindly._  
_“Yes, Sir,” she nodded, “I’ll clean this up now, Sir.”_

  
_Gerard shook his head._

  
_“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll clean up here,” Gerard consulted his pocket watch. “You take the rest of the night off, go home, relax.”_  
_“Mister Way, Sir,” Angela began hesitantly, “I’d be happy to do it.”_ _Gerard smiled._ _“Okay, but then go home. Yes?”_  
_“Thank you, Sir.”_  
_Gerard nodded again as he and Frank returned to their seats the sitting room._  
_“So,” Gerard swirled the wine in his glass before downing what remained, “this is my life! Want to swap?”_  
_“My suggestion to lock him up still stands,” Frank replied. There was humour in his tone, but they both knew he was very serious._

  
_Gerard took a deep breath._

  
_“I’ll give it some thought,” he replied with the same inflection in his voice._


	8. Celebrations, explanations and accusations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's dream continues

_Angela made her way hurriedly through the wood, the moon lighting enough of a path beneath her feet for her not to be stumbling blindly through. Either side of the well worn path were low growing ferns and vines out of which grew the tall oaks. Pulling her shawl around her to stave off the chill evening air, she lowered her head to be sure of her footing._

_“Angela?” a voice called out in the dark._

_Stopping suddenly, Angela glanced around; a smile emerging on her tired face. It was impossible to say where the voice had come from. All she knew was that it was a voice she knew, oh so well._

_“Ray?”_

_Staying close to the sturdy oak, a young man almost rolled out from behind the trunk to stand smiling at the now lightly blushing young woman. He was dressed in simple and clearly worn, but smart clothes, his mop of unruly tight curls tied back with a dark cotton ribbon. In his hand he held out a single wild flower; the long stem giving way to the delicate blue petals._

_“For you, my lady,” he said stepping forward. Even in the dark, she could see his eyes glistening with delight as he gazed lovingly at her. “You look beautiful.”_  
_“Oh!” she exclaimed, blushing even more. “I must be beautiful with my tired eyes and my dress covered in wine!”_

_Ray laughed sympathetically. Throughout their relationship of more than two years, Ray had never known a day when Angela didn’t get cross with herself over some perceived slip. She had the highest expectations of herself and it was a long time before Ray realised that those expected high standards didn’t extend to those around her. He wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination and when he did or said the wrong thing, she was always there with a sympathetic word and a loving embrace. He wished she would extend some of that kindness and forgiveness to herself. Now it seemed that she had spilled some wine and it would be, in her eyes, inexcusable._

_“Had a mishap?”_

  
_Angela lost her smile and lowered her eyes as she remembered the incident._

  
_“Did he hurt you?” Ray asked with anger and concern in equal measures._  
_“I dropped the bottle,” she replied fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes._

_It wasn’t the first time Mikey had forced himself on her and, whilst she knew it would most likely happen again, she was unwilling to discuss it with Ray. Mikey scared her and she feared deeply for what he would do if Ray confronted him. Mikey Way was believed to have a number of men in his employ, ready and willing to do his dirty work, for a price and Ray was too precious to her to risk anything happening to him for the sake of something she knew neither of them could prevent._

_Ray fought the urge to press the matter. He knew something was wrong, but he had asked a dozen or more times before and she had held back. What mattered now was lifting her spirits. Lifting her chin with his finger, he smiled with laughing eyes and moved closer pressing his lips tenderly to hers._

_“I’m only a farmer,” he said as he broke the kiss, “and I don’t have much to offer you, but…”_

 

_Ray paused as he looked on her face, gently lit by the full moon. He was desperately trying to gauge her expression, but her placid features gave nothing away._

  
_“Angela, my angel, will you marry me?”_

  
_Angela’s eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and joy as she flung her arms around him kissing and hugging him tightly._

  
_“Oh, yes! Yes of course!” she cried in reply._

  
_Ray’s reply was merely to gather her as close as he could. This was his dream come true._

*

“Excuse me,” a dark haired man in a smart suit pushed his glasses back up his nose as he looked down at the café table. “May I join you?”  
Bob eyed him with a puzzled expression.  
“If you’re the press, no, we’re tired. Tomorrow.”  
The man reached into his pocket and produced a wallet containing a police badge and identification card.  
“Detective Baxter.”

  
All three sighed. It didn’t actually matter who he was, they were still tired. Ray reached over to the seat next to him and pushed it out.

  
“How can we help you?”

  
Baxter took the seat next to Ray and pulled out a notebook.

  
“I just want to ask you a few questions.”  
“What do you want to know?” Gerard asked, curious as to how the police were involved.

  
“What made you choose that particular location for a video shoot?”

  
Gerard shrugged. “We needed a wood, one that had clearly been there for hundreds of years. You know, kind of neglected, abandoned, scary looking. Our director’s research team found it.”  
“And you had no idea about the dangers?”  
“Well, of course not!” Ray fielded that particular question. “Do you really believe I’d have gone in there if I’d known there were potentially fatal traps?”  
“You tell me?” the detective asked. “From what I gather, that’s exactly what…” he paused to look at his notes, “Bob Bryar and Frank Iero did.”  
“They were going to check it had all been cleared,” Ray explained. Now, of course, with hindsight, the idea seemed ludicrous.  
“But they hadn’t, had they?”  
“Frank went beyond the checked area, it was an accident,” Bob explained.

  
The detective nodded.

  
“No one’s in trouble here, I’m just establishing what happened for my investigation.”  
“What investigation?” Gerard asked confused by the comment.  
“We found a body in one of the old mansion outbuildings.”  
“A body?” Ray asked.

  
The detective nodded again as he checked his notes.

  
“The locals say there was a guy living there a few years back, something of a hermit, pretty anti-social by all accounts.” Baxter took a deep breath as he considered his next statement. “Maybe even a little crazy. We think it’s possible that he may have dug the pits and left the traps in the wood to keep people away. From the looks of things, he’s been dead about six months. So far it looks like natural causes, but I’m just checking things out.”  
“I see,” Mikey replied. “I’m not sure there’s much else we can tell you.”  
“Except, there was a body in the pit I fell in,” Ray added.  
“Yep,” Baxter replied, “got that. Once we confirm that there was no foul play, we’re pretty much done and there’s really nothing to suggest it was anything other than natural.”  
Gerard stared at him wide-eyed; the detective seemed so offhand and disinterested about the whole thing.  
“Okay,” Baxter sighed as he rose once more and added before turning to leave: “I’ll keep you informed. I hope your friends make a full recovery.”  
“Thanks,” Mikey replied in the same half-hearted tone as the detective had used.

Watching Baxter leave the four friends felt almost sorry for him. Death and suffering was clearly a little too typical for him.

*

_“My dear brother, you should take to the boards!” A sly voice commented from the doorway. “You are, without doubt, a fine actor.”_

_Gerard’s shoulders sagged at the arrogance in his tone. Frank had gone home some hours ago, leaving Gerard alone in the mansion. Depressed and tired, he had headed down to the wine cellar and brought back with him three bottles of wine. They weren’t particularly fine wines, but he didn’t want to savour their taste – he didn’t even care if he enjoyed them, he just wanted to get drunk. He had already finished one bottle and was approaching the end of the second when Mikey returned from wherever his earlier tantrum had taken him._

_“What are you talking about?” Gerard replied, slurring his words slightly._  
_“You, earlier – ‘I’m trapped. I’m being blackmailed by my own brother. Everything he has is total fabrication, but what can I do?’” Mikey repeated Gerard’s words in a pitiful whining tone. “Oh, Frank! What can I do?”_  
_“Shut up, Mikey!”_  
_“And you know what, he’s so stupid, he fell for it!”_  
_“Shut up!” Gerard screamed throwing the glass into the fire and pushing himself out of the chair to face him._

  
_Mikey laughed mockingly as Gerard swayed lightly, his fists clenched more out of anger and frustration than any threat of physical violence._

  
_“I almost laughed when you told him that I’d paid a man to say he’d been with you,” Mikey stretched his arms out as he walked into the room. “That was sheer genius! You’re not as stupid as you look; maybe I should remember that, or maybe you should!”_  
_“I’m not going to discuss this with you,” Gerard growled._  
_“Good!” Mikey grinned. “That means I can say what I like without you interrupting me!”_

  
_Mikey stepped forward, closer and closer to his brother until they were almost touching._

  
_“You shouldn’t get so drunk, Gerard, that’s how silly little details and secrets slip out.”_

  
_Gerard was frozen to the spot but managed to turn his eyes away._

  
_“I know you want Frank,” Mikey whispered, his hot breath on Gerard’s cheek. “It’s written all over you, but he’s so blind he can’t see.”_

  
_Gerard’s body remained frozen trying desperately not to react as Mikey inched closer still. Gripping Gerard’s chin, Mikey turned his head to face him, grazing Gerard’s cheek with his lips as he did so._

  
_“Tell me, Gerard,” Mikey whispered, “is it only him you want?”_

  
_Mikey lowered his gaze._

  
_“It would seem not,” he laughed at Gerard’s discomfort._

_Pushing Mikey aside with all his strength, Gerard emitted a scream that was clearly a mixture of defiance and defeat and half ran, half staggered drunkenly from the room. Despite losing his balance and crashing to the floor at the unexpected and violent shove, Mikey’s spiteful and mocking laughter rang in Gerard’s ears as he ran from the room, no longer able to suffer his brother’s cruel taunts._

[❮](http://ficwad.com/story/106137)


	9. Don't Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is 'dream' Frey up to?

The only sound from the room came from the monitors adjacent to Frank’s bed. The room itself was at the far end of a corridor and no one ventured near unless they were intending on going inside. Doctor Wendel had been strict about that. Once inside, staff had to remain silent and keep physical contact to the barest minimum. Nobody wanted to be the one that turned Frank’s dream into a fatal spiral. As he watched from the chair a few feet from Frank’s bed, Bob wondered if the lack of contact was actually prolonging his condition, but of course, the frustrating fact was they could never know. Bob held in the sigh that threatened to break from his lips as he thought about this whole dreadful situation. Bob was never one for apportioning blame, but this, he believed unquestioningly, was entirely his fault. He had suggested going back to check, he had asked Frank to go with him, he had pushed him to reveal what was troubling him in the wood, which had almost certainly contributed to him agreeing to go back with him. Now Frank was in a coma and locked into a dream that may even kill him. Of course, Bob allowed himself a faint smile, Frank could be dreaming about endless guitars, cookies and pizza for all he knew. Shaking his head he remembered what the doctor had said and knew that the trauma he had suffered in the wood was almost certainly going to cause a bad dream. Bob frowned, he had to wake up, he just had to.

A movement to his left caught his eye and as he looked over, he saw Ray closing the door silently behind him and motioning for Bob to come over. Easing himself out of the chair, Bob stepped lightly to join Ray at the door.

“What did you say to him?” Ray asked, his voice the barest whisper.

  
Bob shook his head.

  
“Nothing,” he admitted in a hushed tone. “I’m too scared to.”  
Ray nodded. “I don’t think I could either.”  
“I’ve done enough damage already.”  
“What?” Ray asked, the pitch of his voice rising but the volume staying low. “What are you talking about?”  
“This is all my fault, and don’t say it isn’t because it is.”  
“It was an accident, Bob.” Ray tried to reassure him.

  
Bob merely sighed in reply and shook his head. Ray frowned. Bob needed more than a brief few words; he needed a shoulder.Grabbing Bob’s arm, Ray opened the door and pulled him out before closing the door quietly behind him.

  
“Come on,” Ray nodded to emphasise his words. “Let’s get a coffee, you need a break anyway.”

*

_Despite the late hour Ray and Angela begged and cajoled their friends and family to go with them to the town’s tavern. Once more than a couple of them had been convinced, it became obvious that an announcement was on the cards and it became increasingly easy for them to encourage people to join them. Once everyone was gathered, drink in hand, Ray and Angela announced their engagement. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that they were perfect for each other and anyone could tell from the way they looked at each other that they were deeply in love. It made it all the more confusing that Bob, Angela’s brother was seated in the corner of the room staying as far away from the celebrations as he could, in deep conversation with a tall stocky man with mid-brown hair._

_“Bob?” Ray called as he wandered over to the darkened corner of the room._

_The man with him looked up urgently and displayed a nervous expression. Whispering a few brief words to Bob, he snatched up his belongings, lowered his gaze and darted from the bar, almost knocking Ray over as he left._

_“What did you say to him?” Ray asked, looking back towards Bob._   
_“Nothing,” Bob replied evenly._   
_“Well, something scared him,” Ray glanced back over his shoulder; the man was nowhere to be seen._   
_“Yeah, well, something’s scared me too.”_   
_“What’s wrong?” Ray asked, puzzled as to why Bob had secreted himself in a dark corner of the tavern, completely ignoring his only sister and Ray’s celebrations._

  
_Bob shook his head and lifted the tankard to his lips only to have his arm stopped half way by Ray’s hand gripping it firmly._

  
_“What’s wrong?” Ray repeated._   
_“Nothing,” Bob growled switching the tankard to his other hand and taking a long draught so that half was gone by the time he lowered his hand once more._

_Ray regarded the man who would soon be his brother-in-law. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for his sister, it wasn’t even that he and Ray didn’t get on. Bob could be distant and very private, but he was very much a family man and since the death of their father had almost taken on the mantle of surrogate parent to Angela, vetting all of her suitors. Ray had been the only man since their father’s death that he had approved of, so now, his distracted behaviour was bewildering to Ray. Did he not approve of their marriage? Was he angry that Ray hadn’t come to him and asked for her hand? There was nothing more to do but ask him outright._

_“Aren’t you happy for us?”_

  
_Bob looked up, surprised by the directness of the question._

  
_“Do you really love her?” he asked taking another swift drink._   
_“What kind of a question is that?” Ray asked, astonished that Bob didn’t know the answer after all this time. “Of course I do! You know I do, I’d do anything for her!”_   
_“Anything?” Bob queried finishing the drink and motioning to the serving girl for a refill._   
_“What are you asking?” Ray asked narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Who was that?”_   
_“Before I answer that, I want to ask you one more thing,” Bob raised his eyes in a stern glare as his tankard was refilled._   
_“Go on,” Ray was beginning to appreciate the seriousness in Bob’s tone._   
_“Why do you let her work at that house?”_   
_“Because it’s not my place to stop her,” Ray frowned at the suggestion. “And anyway, why shouldn’t she?”_

  
_Bob scowled and absently tapped the side of his drink._

  
_“If you can seriously ask that, you’re not marrying my sister.”_   
_“What! You can’t tell us what we can or can’t do!” Ray jumped to his feet angrily only to be pulled roughly back down into his seat._   
_“I can’t tell you, but I can tell her!” Bob growled. “You can’t honestly tell me you don’t know what she has to deal with in that place! You see her all the time!”_

_Ray’s face grew pale. Yes, he knew that something was wrong; she had frequently come home subdued or even bordering on tears, but she had never confided in him the reasons, no matter how much he begged, pleaded or even insisted. He had eventually assumed that she must have been rebuked over some trifling matter or perhaps it was her natural ability to be cross at herself over small things upsetting her. He hadn’t considered that there could be anything seriously wrong; she could tell him anything, couldn’t she? In that moment, as all the uncertainties passed through Ray’s mind, Bob’s expression softened._

_“You really don’t know, do you?”_   
_“What?” Ray’s expression changed into a mixture of worry and concern for his beloved fiancée. “What’s happened? Sometimes she’s upset when she comes home, but she outright refuses to tell me anything, no matter what I say. I always thought that if it was bad, she’d tell me.”_

  
_Bob sighed and offered a sympathetic smile._

  
_“I think it’s because it’s bad that she won’t tell you.”_   
_“Please, you have to tell me, what’s going on! Who was that man you spoke to earlier?” Ray asked, now frantic with worry, imagining all manner of unpleasant scenarios._

  
_Calling for another tankard of ale for Ray, Bob explained._

  
_“His name is Frey; he works for Way as his stableman. He told me that Way has secretly ordered new livery for his horses and a bridal coach is being built for him at the coachworks in the next town.”_   
_“So?” Ray asked hesitantly. Even though it was fairly obvious to him where Bob was alluding to, he still didn’t want to believe it._   
_“He’s got his eyes on Angela he’s planning to force her to marry him at a secret ceremony at the house next week.”_   
_“I can’t believe it,” Ray shook his head. “He can’t force her… can he? But she’s never said anything.”_   
_“I told you it was bad. She’s trying to handle it herself; you know how stubborn she is, but if you asked her outright if he had ever forced himself on her, she couldn’t look you in the eyes and deny it.”_

  
_Ray’s fingers curled tightly around the handle of the tankard until his knuckles whitened._

  
_“I’ll kill him!” he spat angrily through gritted teeth._   
_“No you won’t,” Bob replied gently but firmly as he placed a sympathetic hand on Ray’s arm. “If you do, his brother will have you strung up before you can blink.”_   
_“What then?” Ray welled up at the idea that his innocent love was suffering such indignity in silence. “He can’t get away with this!”_   
_“You have to leave, both of you, get as far away from here as you can, start a new life.”_

_Both men stared at each other briefly for a moment. Ray could see the hurt in Bob’s eyes at the necessity of losing the only family he had left, but neither could he bear the thought of what he had just been informed that Gerard Way was doing, and worse still, what he was planning._

_“But…” Ray gasped at the idea. “My farm. Everything I have to offer her is here.”_

  
_Bob shook his head kindly._

  
_“Everything she needs is sitting right in front of me.”_   
_“He can’t do this!” Ray objected to his new life being torn apart before it even began._   
_“But he will, if you don’t get away now,” Bob sighed, “I’ll help you.”_   
_“But… Angela.”_   
_“Don’t mention it to her. It’s all arranged. Alan will bring you a horse and trap, you can load all the belongings you can and get away, while you still can.”_   
_“When?”_   
_“The day after tomorrow,” Bob forced a smile. “Do you think you can keep this in? Behave normally?”_   
_Ray nodded sadly. “Anything for her.”_

[❮](http://ficwad.com/story/106257)


	10. First Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first words seep into Frank's dream - but what are they and what effect will they have?

_Frank stood waiting at the impressively large door of the main house. Behind him, his beautiful grey mare whinnied lightly and he patted her neck as he waited for a reply to his knock. Gerard was supposed to have met him for a ride into the next town that morning, but he had not shown. It wasn’t the first time Gerard had let him down and he suspected that, like all the other times before, Gerard was still drunk from the night before. After a few moments the door opened and Frank smiled; Angela looked radiant today. Something, or possibly someone, had clearly lifted her spirits after the previous night’s unpleasant experience with Mikey._  
  
_“Angela,” Frank beamed, “I was going to ask you how you are today after, well you know, but you look so happy, I’m tempted to ask if there’s anything… er… new to tell me?”_

  
_Angela blushed and giggled at Frank’s question._

  
_“Ray and I got engaged last night,” she replied, still with a blush in her cheeks and her eyes lowered._  
  
_Frank reached forward and clasped his hands around hers._

  
_“That’s wonderful news!” he cried; a broad grin crossing his face. “We have to have some sort of celebration.”_  
  
_Angela smiled at Frank, he was so warm and genuine and she couldn’t help but wonder how he could be friends with the Way brothers – one a hopeless, depressive drunk and the other an arrogant, grasping troublemaker. Although, admittedly, Frank appeared to merely tolerate Mikey for Gerard’s sake._  
  
_“I think Ray has something planned for tomorrow,” she nodded, “he’s acting a little suspiciously, he can’t seem to hide anything from me.”_  
  
_Frank winked in return._

  
_“Well, if I hear anything, I’ll keep it a secret.”_

  
_Angela laughed; whatever Ray was planning was unlikely to remain a secret for long._  
  
_“Would you like to come in, Sir, I assume you’re here for Mister Gerard?”_  
_“Yes, we were supposed to meet in the town this morning to ride to Woodridge today, but he didn’t show. Is he,” Frank paused to consider his wording – he really didn’t want to say ‘passed out in a drunken stupor’, “still asleep?”_  
_“No, Sir,” Angela shook her head, “he left the house about thirty minutes ago.”_  
_“Oh,” Frank frowned thoughtfully._  
_“But…” Angela began hesitantly, “I did see Mister Mikey head for the stables earlier, maybe he’s still there.”_

  
_Frank’s nose crumpled with distaste._

  
_“I definitely don’t want to see Mikey.”_  
_“No, Sir,” Angela corrected, holding back an understanding laugh at Frank’s remark, “I meant that maybe Mister Gerard is still there. They might be… talking.”_

  
_Frank turned his soft brown eyes to look at Angela; he had to admire her loyalty and discretion._

  
_“Or, they’re killing each other?”_

  
_Angela offered a faint smile in return; Frank was a good man, he understood how hard it was for everyone working in the house to get by with the two brothers constantly at each other’s throats._

  
_“Is it okay if I leave my horse here?” Frank asked. He didn’t want to say it outright, but he wanted to approach the stables in silence. He couldn’t honestly say he knew why, but he did know that whenever Mikey was involved, stealth and caution were always recommended._  
  
*  
  
“Stop it!” Ray snapped. “If you say it’s your fault one more time, Bob, I swear I’m going to…”

  
“Bob raised his eyebrows, curious as to what Ray could possibly threaten him with.

  
“… I’ll hide your drumsticks!”

  
Bob feigned terror, but he got the message.

  
“All right! All right! I give in! It’s not my fault.” Bob stared down at his coffee, wondering if it had now cooled beyond the point it would be pleasant to drink – not that hospital coffee truly rated as pleasant at the best of times. “I don’t feel any better.”  
  
Ray offered a sympathetic and supportive smile.

  
“No, you won’t,” he agreed. “It doesn’t matter that it’s not your fault, you’re still worried about him.”  
“This sucks!” Bob grumbled. “Why can’t they help him?”  
Ray gave a resigned sigh. “I wish they could too.”  
  
Both men turned their heads toward the corridor as the seemingly thundering noise of boots on the tiled floor headed their way.Staring through the windows of the cafeteria, Ray and Bob watched as the source of the noise grew closer. Their eyes widened as they saw Mikey and Gerard tear past at speed.  
  
“Frank!” Ray cried as he and Bob stood quickly, their seats pushing back and in Ray’s case falling to the floor.

Running from the table, they followed their friends as they headed back towards Frank’s room. Pushing through the busy corridors, Ray and Bob made it to the stairs nearest to Frank’s room. Quickly descending two levels, they burst through the doors to see Gerard and Mikey dragging Alan Frey, the director of their video shoot back down to the waiting room.  
  
“What happened?” Bob asked breathlessly as he and Ray skidded to a halt alongside the brothers and Frey.  
“He was in there!” Gerard snapped, but trying hard to keep his voice low. “Talking to him!”  
“What?” Ray replied in a shocked tone. “Why?”

  
Frey was bewildered.

  
“He’s in hospital,” he began oblivious to the problem, “you’re supposed to talk to people. Even if they’re in a coma, I heard that it helps.”

  
Ray’s shoulders dropped and he appeared distraught.

  
“They didn’t tell you?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. Frey meant well, he truly did.

  
Gerard and Ray placed comforting arms around the director and pulled him toward the visitors’ waiting room.

  
“You have to tell us everything you said to him,” Gerard insisted, even though there was really nothing he could do with the information.  
  
*  
  
_Frank rounded the side of the house and walked to the stables. It wasn’t a particularly large stable yard; Gerard had no need of a large number of horses and even Mikey was restricted to keeping only two. Altogether, six horses were housed there, two for Gerard, two for Mikey and two for the small carriage they both used from time to time._  
  
_Frank approached the U shaped set of buildings that made up the stables. Running along the left hand side were the six horse stalls. They were deep allowing each horse room to move, its own feeding trough and water. Invariably, during the day, the upper part of the door to each stall was left open to allow the horses light and air. At the far end stood the feed and hay barn and on the right hand arm of the U, opposite the horse stalls, lay the tack and carriage buildings. It was there, in the carriage block that Frank could hear voices. One voice he recognised instantly as Mikey’s, the other, he wasn’t certain, but he at least knew it wasn’t Gerard’s. Approaching quietly, Frank pressed himself against the wall and listened._  
  
_“Here,” Frank recognised Mikey’s voice, followed by the crinkle of paper and realised that money was changing hands. “You’ve done well. I still can’t believe that he accepted everything you said without question!”_  
_“I told them it would be tomorrow,” came the other voice._  
_“No,” Mikey growled, “it has to be tonight.”_  
_“But you said…”_  
_“Never mind what I said!” Mikey snapped. “It’s tonight! I want rid of Gerard and the sooner the better!”_  
_“Okay, okay! I’ll get the carriage ready and let him know!”_  
  
_Frank felt a tap on his shoulder, but he had no sooner turned his head than a fist was crashing down on his jaw. Frank spun away from his hiding place and landed heavily on the floor. Dazed, Frank heard a scuffling noise and glanced up to see Mikey standing over him, with Frey and his assistant just behind._  
  
_“You shouldn’t be here, Frank!” Mikey announced callously._  
_“What are you up to, Mikey?” Frank snapped trying to push himself to his feet only to be seized and dragged upright by Frey, the stableman, and the man who had punched him that he knew only as Frey’s assistant. Held in their grip, he pulled and struggled to free himself._  
  
_“You leave me in a difficult position, Frankie,” Mikey taunted him, spreading his arms in a suggestion of feigned innocence.“You’ve heard too much. I can hardly let you go now, can I?”_  
_“Let go of me!” Frank yelled as he struggled fruitlessly. “Gerard won’t stand for this!”_  
_Laughing, Mikey replied. “Gerard can barely stand at the best of times! And that won’t be his biggest problem soon – he’ll be dead.”_  
_“You bastard, Mikey! You won’t get away with this!”_

  
_Mikey thought for a moment._

  
_“Actually,” he grinned, as a strip of cloth was pulled into Frank’s mouth and tied tightly at the nape of his neck. “I think I will. Take him to the smoke house, tie him up and get the fires going. Have you ever wondered what happens to fish when it’s smoked, Frank?” Mikey paused for effect, knowing that Frank was unable to answer him. “You know what? Don’t worry, you’ll never know; you’ll suffocate first!”_  
  
_With the flick of his head, Mikey indicated to the two men to dispose of Frank. The last thing he needed right now was a witness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - If anyone hid my drumsticks, there would be consequences!


	11. Mikey finds new ways to hurt Gerard

Ray paled suddenly and collapsed against the corridor wall grimacing in agony. No longer able to support his own weight, he slid to the floor, his fists clenched as he tried desperately to hold in the cry of pain that so desperately wanted to burst forth from his lips.

“Ray?” Bob turned shocked by the rapid change in the guitarist’s demeanour. It was a few seconds before he realised what the problem was. “Oh, God! You ran! On your sprained foot! You ran!"

  
Ray shook his head.

  
“I didn’t think. I thought… Frank…” he gasped through the pain. “It’s just hit me.”

In moments a doctor was at Ray’s side, examining his now very swollen ankle. Frowning, he shook his head.

  
“I’m amazed you can even stand on that!” he announced. “Running?”  
Ray shrugged.  
“It wasn’t my first choice.”  
Paging a nurse, and an orderly, the doctor continued:  
“I’m afraid, I’m going to have to admit you. Nurse Klein will see you settled in a room and I’ll be checking on you later.”  
“But what about Frank?” Ray protested.

  
Bob crouched at Ray’s side and gave a friendly punch on his left arm.

  
“Keep your ‘fro on! We’ll let you know everything!”  
Ray pouted. “You know I hate it when you say that.”  
“Yeah,” Bob nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face, “I believe you’ve mentioned it once or twice.”  
“Well…” Ray’s face screwed up with a sudden sharp pain coursing up his leg. Taking a deep breath as the pain subsided, he continued: “… you better had tell me everything.”  
“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ll hide my drumsticks. I live in fear of that day.”  
“Oh, shut up, Bob!” Ray grumbled as he was helped into a wheelchair by the orderly.  
Bob turned to Gerard briefly.  
“I’ll see Ray into his room. Find out what you can from Alan, I’ll meet you back at the café?”

  
Gerard nodded as he Mikey and Alan headed back along the corridor.

*

Alan Frey, the director of My Chemical Romance’s latest video shoot, had done nothing right. None of his errors had been intentional, but all of them had been significant. The biggest three thus far had been inadequate location management, resulting in Ray falling into a pit loaded with long wooden spikes that nearly cost him his life; not appearing to register or even care that Ray had been badly hurt in the fall and finally entering Frank’s hospital room, oblivious to the fact that the outcome of his dream while comatose could threaten his life.

On the way to the café, Mikey explained the strange and rare condition Frank appeared to be suffering and the possible effects of Frey’s words and actions. As much as they wanted to know more, there was little they could do to even understand what effect they would have, if any, never mind rectify any of those issues.

Once all three were seated at a table, Gerard looked expectantly at Alan. Despite it not being his fault that he had been unaware of Frank’s situation, he felt waves of guilt crashing over him and he prayed that his actions would not prove detrimental.

  
“I went in and sat down,” Frey explained. “I touched his shoulder just to let him know I was there.”  
“Did you say anything?” Gerard asked.  
Frey nodded. “I said that he shouldn’t be there and…”  
“And what?” Gerard pushed. “We have to know.”  
Frey sighed. “Remember, I was just talking, saying anything that came into my head for the sake of something to say more than actually thinking it.”  
“What did you say?” Gerard replied, now deeply concerned.  
“I said that I was in a difficult position, that you wouldn’t stand for it.”

  
Gerard raised his eyebrows. The words sounded pretty selfish, but he now knew from what Frey had said that he had merely been rambling; saying anything just to say something.

  
“Then I just said I was dying for a smoke.”

  
Both brothers laughed at that comment. It seemed like nothing. There was no way they could know the sinister way such an innocuous remark had seeped into Frank’s dream.

  
“How will it affect him?”

  
Gerard shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

  
“We don’t know,” he admitted. “It may do nothing, it may save his life, it may kill him. We…”

  
Gerard turned his head sharply away as his eyes stung with sudden burning tears. He had not truly considered it before, but now as he said the words out loud, he realised the possibility that Frank may not recover and it was more than he could bear.  
Mikey’s eyes widened as he took in his brother’s sudden crushing pain and felt it all with him. Resting his forehead on Gerard’s shoulder, Mikey drew him in to a supportive hug that Gerard readily accepted. Frank mustn’t die. In his mind, it simply wasn’t an option.

*

_Frank didn’t go easily, but there was little he could do to prevent it. Even the additional strength garnered from his anger at Mikey’s mocking laughter as he was dragged away wasn’t enough. The smoke house was a long way from the stables and even further from the main house; even without the gag it was unlikely anyone would hear him shout for help. Struggling violently in the four handed grip, Frank felt he was gaining on them until a fist slammed into his back between his shoulder blades. The air in his lungs was instantly driven out and a sharp debilitating pain ran up his spine into his neck. Momentarily, he felt as weak as a kitten as he dropped to his knees. Pushing him face down into the grass, Frey straddled Frank’s hips as his assistant held his arms. Unable to move, Frank felt a long strip of leather, taken from the tack store, wrapped tightly around his wrists and tied in a firm double knot. Pulled to his feet once more and secure in their grip, Frank knew there was now very little he could do to resist and as the smoke house loomed into view, his eyes displayed the fear he felt._

_*_

_Returning to the house, Mikey chuckled to himself; all this would soon be his, to run and dispose of as he saw fit. Gerard was a drunk, but the townspeople loved him. He treated them fairly, even kindly, frequently allowing the rent to slip if there had been a poor harvest or damage to crops or livestock by the local wolves. All that would change when he was master of the Estate. Oh, yes, he, Mikey Way, would not be taken advantage of and he would teach them all respect. But first, to dispose of Gerard and make it appear an accident._

_Rounding the front of the house, Mikey frowned to see Frank’s grey tethered near the door. Loosening the reigns, Mikey lifted his left foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up, swinging his right leg over the saddle. Gripping the reigns tightly as the horse reared, as she recognised the different rider. Cruelly pulling down firmly on the reigns and driving the bit deeper into the horse’s mouth was enough to bring her back under his control and with a satisfied smirk, he kicked his legs guiding her towards the stables. Looking up as he swung off the horse at the stall entrance, Mikey could see Gerard in the distance leading his horse. He laughed to himself as he noticed his brother was limping. Without even removing the bit, bridle or saddle, Mikey, pulled Frank’s horse into the stall with one of his own horses then left, closing both upper and lower stall doors. He hoped that Gerard wouldn’t notice the closed doors, but it looked from this distance as if he had been thrown; he would have more on his mind than a closed stall door._

_“What happened to you, dear brother?” Mikey smirked as Gerard finally limped into the stable yard._  
 _“Where’s Frey?” Gerard asked ignoring the question._  
“He’s running an errand for me,” Mikey replied casually.  
“And Roberts?” he asked, referring to Frey’s assistant.  
“It’s a two man job.” Mikey smiled innocently as Gerard sighed his annoyance. “You still haven’t told me what happened to you.”  
“My horse threw a shoe,” Gerard grumbled.  
“And you too by the looks of it,” Mikey laughed. “What was the matter? Mind on someone else?”  
Gerard raised his eyes and glared at his brother.  
“Oh!” Mikey grinned. “I know! You’re still drunk!”  
“What’s Frey doing for you?” Gerard asked angrily.  
“He’s helping me get rid of a few things I don’t need any more.”  
“Like what?”  
“Just clutter,” Mikey smiled innocently.

_  
Gerard rolled his eyes; Mikey had become so secretive in the last few years that he often talked in riddles, even over the smallest of things. Gerard found it best to ignore him._

  
“ _Have you seen Frank?” Gerard asked as he led his horse to the water trough and started to remove his saddle. “I was on my way to meet him when the horse threw a shoe.”_  
“He was here, but he left pretty soon after.”  
“Where did he go?”

_  
Gerard felt Mikey’s hand brush his cheek. Reaching up, he grabbed Mikey’s wrist and pulled it away. Turning to face his brother, Gerard glared._

_  
“Stop it!”_

_  
Mikey pouted theatrically and nursed his sore wrist._

  
_“You’ve got quite a grip on you there, Gerard,” Mikey smiled suggestively. “Seems such a shame to waste it.”_  
_“What’s your game, Mikey?”_  
_“My game?” Mikey approached his brother, standing just a little too close. Cocking his head to the right he smiled, crinkling his nose teasingly. “Why? Want to play?”_

_  
Gerard steadied his breathing as he eyed Mikey, trying to gauge his intentions._

_  
“What are you trying to do?”_

_  
Mikey leaned in, pulling Gerard’s head forcefully towards him and pressing his lips against his, fiercely at first then softer as he felt Gerard yield to him. Pulling back, Mikey now offered only a cruel sneer as his brother stared back, open-mouthed in bewilderment._

_  
“What am I trying to do?” Mikey repeated. “Confuse you? Upset you?”_

_  
He shrugged indifferently as Gerard’s expression changed to one of humiliation and anger._

  
“ _How about hurt you?” the younger brother asked as he swung an unexpected right hook across Gerard’s jaw. Spinning to the floor, Gerard landed heavily and continued to lie there unmoving.  
Mikey laughed as he walked back toward the house._

_“You’re such a fool, Gerard. You don’t deserve to live.”_


	12. Frank's Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heat exhaustion or suffocation - which will kill Frank first?

_Frank lay on the floor of the Smokehouse, now bound hand and foot with leather straps. The cloth pulled deep inside his mouth acted as an effective gag, not that it was even necessary so far from the main buildings. It was likely that this was it, he was going to die here and Mikey would be a step closer to getting everything he ever wanted. Frank stared up, silently willing the two men to let him go who merely smirked at him before heading for the door._

_“Shame, Iero,” Frey shrugged. “Wrong place, wrong time.”_

_Frank was out of time. He lay, tightly bound and helpless, and all the while, Gerard was unknowingly in grave danger._

_*_

_Gerard opened his eyes and slowly took in his surroundings. Pushing himself to his knees, he remembered the encounter with Mikey and, sitting back on his heels, he hung his head miserably. Mikey had used him, taunted him, hurt him – again. He should know better than this by now. Mikey didn’t love him; he didn’t even like him. Of course Mikey was always going to use what he knew against him, what else did he expect? Gerard had always known that his brother had never been anything other than what he was now – selfish and arrogant. He had lost count of the number of times he had cursed himself for getting so drunk that Mikey had managed to discover his most private of secrets. Since then, Mikey had grown increasingly worse; taunting him, abusing him and worst of all, threatening to reveal all to the townspeople – they could never accept it. Even though now, in the latter half of the eighteenth century, it was no longer considered the result of demonic possession, it was still a heinous crime and Gerard could do nothing that might risk exposure. Mikey condemned Gerard in private, claiming he had no right to the Estate due to what he saw as his ‘unnatural interests’ and that, by rights, it should fall to him. He wasn’t at all certain how, but Gerard had managed to keep him at bay all this time – perhaps purely on the strength of his natural authority? But he realised that as Mikey got older he would grow more independent and less likely to allow Gerard to keep him under control. Despite his deep suspicions, Gerard had no real sense of just how malevolent Mikey had become, nor that his murder was being planned at that very moment._

_Pushing himself to his feet finally, Gerard turned and trudged back to the house. It was by now approaching mid-afternoon and he desperately needed a drink. Stepping into the welcoming warmth of the entrance hall, Gerard removed his coat as he closed the door._

_“Mister Gerard!” Angela cried as she saw his bleeding lip, bruised forehead and dirt-covered coat. “What happened? Are you all right?”_  
“I’m fine,” he grumbled sourly.  
“Let me take your coat,” she replied gently, ignoring his brusqueness.

_  
Gerard looked up as Angela took the coat from his hands and headed to the laundry room to try to get it clean. At the end of the corridor, Mikey stood, leaning against the wall, one leg casually tipped behind the other and his arms folded._

  
_“Who put my horse away?” Gerard growled._  
“Frey did,” Mikey replied coldly.  
“And he just left me there! That’s it; I’ve had enough! He can collect his things and get out!”  
“You can’t fire a man for following orders,” Mikey corrected. “I told him to leave you.”  
“He doesn’t work for you!” Gerard snapped only to receive a knowing smirk from his brother.

_  
Racing forward Gerard placed an arm to Mikey’s throat and pushed him forcefully back against the wall._

  
_“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t break your neck, right now!” Gerard screamed, furious at his brother’s callous behaviour._  
“Frank,” he whispered hoarsely.  
“Wh…what?” he replied losing enough strength and determination for Mikey to push him back.  
“Seen him today?” Mikey asked rubbing his neck.  
“What have you done?” Gerard asked, his anger stepping up once more.  
“Me?” Mikey raised his eyebrows innocently. “Nothing! I don’t want your playthings!”  
“I’m warning you, Mikey!”  
“You’re warning me! You?” he laughed. “Go ahead, warn me. Beat me to a pulp if you like, but I’m the only one who knows who’s got him and why. Your call, Gerard!”  
“What’s going on?” he asked, reluctant to trust Mikey, but left with no choice.

_  
Mikey merely signalled towards the sitting room and the pair entered, an uneasy truce between them._

*

_Frank’s pulse raced as he began to feel the heat from the fires beneath the smokehouse. Frank gritted his teeth in anger as he thought of Frey’s disloyalty towards Gerard. How long, he wondered, had the stableman been doubling as Mikey’s henchman – taking Gerard’s money whilst actively plotting to murder him? Did he honestly think that Mikey would allow him to live after he took control of the Estate? If he could murder his own brother, he was capable of anything and if Frey believed that his help in realising Mikey’s evil plan would gain him favour, then he was sure to be sorely mistaken._

_But now, everything became insignificant next to his need to escape. The heat of the fires forced the sweat from his body. Tiny rivers of perspiration ran down his neck and limbs, pooling behind his knees, in the small of his back and glistening on his brow. Near the ceiling, Frank could see the first wisps of white smoke filtering through the crude vents and knew it would only be a matter of time before the room filled and he suffocated. Sweat stung his eyes as it ran from his forehead, his hair already soaked and plastered against his head. Doubling his efforts, he struggled furiously against his bonds, gasping for breath as his exertions sapped his energy. Already the heat of the fires was making breathing difficult and he knew that even if he got free of the leather straps binding his hands and feet, he would still have to break out of the smokehouse; raising stinging and watering eyes, he gazed bleakly at the sturdy looking door that he knew was bolted from the outside. With a muffled scream of frustration, he renewed his efforts, refusing to give in without a fight._

*

The hospital public address system crackled to life and, moments later, a bored female voice made an announcement.

“Will the Woods family please return to room ten thirty-one? The Woods family to room ten thirty-one, please.”

Gerard tapped Mikey’s arm.

  
“That’s us; they want us back at Frank’s room.”  
“The Woods family?” his brother queried, his expression one of surprise.

  
Gerard glanced between him and Bob; both appeared perplexed as they rose to follow him.

  
“It was the first thing I could think of,” he explained. “Can you imagine the noise from fans and press the moment they announce ‘Can the Way brothers and Bob Bryar please go to Frank Iero’s room’?”

Bob rolled his eyes. Gerard was right; it was simply unthinkable. The comparative quiet that Frank was experiencing at the moment would be shattered, the effect of which could be drastic.  
As they headed at speed down the stairs, Bob commented on the coded message.

“Woods,” he nodded his approval, “I get that, but there is no room ten thirty-one.”  
“It’s his birthday, I wanted something relevant but that wouldn’t give it away. You know,” the singer glanced behind him at the drummer, “just in case there is actually a Woods family somewhere here.”

  
Bob nodded. For a spur-of-the-moment coded message, it was pretty good.

Arriving in the corridor housing Frank’s room only a minute or two after the announcement, the three musicians drifted to a halt as Doctor Wendel signalled to them to accompany him to an empty patient room.

“What’s wrong?” Mikey asked quietly, his expression one of deep concern as he feared the worst. “Is he… he’s not…?”  
“His temperature has risen dramatically and there’s a very real risk of swelling in the brain. He’s also having difficulty breathing. We’ve given him medication to try to bring his temperature down and he’s on oxygen now, but if he doesn’t respond very soon, then… the damage could be irreparable.”  
“How soon is very soon?” Gerard asked, uncertain he truly wanted to hear the reply.  
Wendel took a deep breath and considered the question for a few moments. He was unwilling to appear to make any promises and he certainly didn’t want to scare them, but they needed to be told something.  
“I would say, he needs to respond within the next twenty minutes.”  
“And if he doesn’t?” Gerard prompted.  
Wendel paused unsure how much bad news to give them.  
“Tell us,” Bob spoke gently but firmly. “Please, we need to know.”  
“Then, I’d have to say if he doesn’t respond to the treatment within the next twenty minutes, I doubt he’ll wake up. I have to be honest, it doesn’t look good.”

Wendel was, at first, met merely with stunned silence. They knew it was bad, but they had simply not realised how bad. The silence was broken by the ever-practical Bob.

“Gee, does Ray know about the coded message to call us back here?”  
“No,” Gerard shook his head, his voice barely audible. “I arranged it, but forgot to tell you all.”  
“Okay,” the drummer began stiffly, “I know we said we’d tell him everything, but I think we should wait to see if Frank responds to the treatment.”  
“Why?” Gerard asked still dazed by the news.

  
Bob allowed his tears to fall unashamedly.

  
“Because, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could go in there and say the words.”

Gerard turned, Bob was distraught. He had fought to save the guitarist’s life back in the woods and couldn’t bear to think that it was for nothing. Wondering if he had done something wrong, that if he had acted sooner or differently, this could have been avoided. Bob Bryar wasn’t given to showing his feelings and hugging wasn’t something that generally he felt comfortable with. Gerard knew as he placed a comforting arm around his friend’s shoulders that he must be deeply distressed when he didn’t even flinch at the action. When Bob turned into the hug and reciprocated, Gerard’s eyes welled up; he had never seen Bob so obviously upset. Reaching out with his free arm, Gerard pulled Mikey in and they sought solace from each other against their fear and anguish.


	13. Mikey's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Dream' Mikey begins his plan to murder Gerard

_Gerard stopped in the centre of the room and turned to face Mikey as he closed the door behind him._

_“Don’t look so nervous, Gerard,” Mikey laughed. “You don’t need to be worried about me.”  
“I’m not worried about you,” he snapped back._

_  
The corners of Mikey’s mouth turned down into an angry frown._

__  
“No, I know!” he growled. “You never have been! I’m just the inconvenience that you’re forced to deal with.”  
“What!” Gerard stared back in astonishment at the reply. “Is that what you really think?”  
“Oh, come on!” Mikey scoffed. “Don’t tell me it’s not true or I’ll know you’re lying to me. I know you better than that.”

_  
Mikey turned his back on his brother and his shoulders sagged as he continued._

_  
“You’ve never cared for me, you just tolerate me.”_

_Gerard’s breath hitched as he heard the catch in his brother’s throat. Stepping forward he placed a hand tentatively on Mikey’s right shoulder._

_“That’s not true, Mikey, you have to believe that.”_

_Mikey turned slowly, his eyes lowered at first. Extending his hand, he gently ran it down Gerard’s left arm. Taking a step closer, Mikey moved his hand and ran it across Gerard’s soft cotton shirt. Stopping as he reached the buttons, he deftly unfastened the top two._

_“Mikey…” Gerard spoke quietly, with hesitation clear in his voice. “Don’t.”_  
“See?” Mikey lowered his eyes again. “I knew you’d turn me away.”  
“Can you blame me?”

_  
Mikey stared back. He looked hurt by the reply, then saddened._

__  
“No,” he shook his head sadly. “I deserve it, I know I do.”  
“Mikey?” Gerard began, unsure exactly what to say. “I thought you hated me.”  
“I’m sorry, Gerard,” Mikey gripped his arms. “Give me one more chance? Please, Gerard? Just one more?”

_Gerard nodded with a kind smile. He glanced down; Mikey had poured his heart out to him and begged his forgiveness – how could he refuse him? How could he have misunderstood his own brother by such a degree? He felt guilty.  
His guilt was soon washed away by a wave of surprise as Mikey slid his left arm around Gerard’s waist and pulled him closer so that their hips touched._

_“Mikey?” Gerard gasped at the action but was prevented from saying more as Mikey pressed his lips to his. Despite himself, he felt himself responding as Mikey ran his fingers through his hair.  
“Gerard?” Mikey whispered through the kiss. “I do hate you.”_

_As his hand reached the back of Gerard’s head, he closed his fingers, snatching a handful of his hair and pulled back painfully. Gerard screamed with pain and humiliation as Mikey took half a step back and brought his knee sharply into Gerard’s crotch. The normal sensitivity of the area heightened by Mikey’s apparently genuine advances only made the pain more excruciating and Gerard gasped and sagged as the agony weakened him. Landing a heavy blow to his abdomen, Mikey laughed as he let go of Gerard’s hair and watched him drop to his knees. Swiping a half-clenched fist across his brother’s face, re-opening the gash on his lower lip, Mikey watched with satisfaction as Gerard fell backwards to the floor._

_“Still conscious?” Mikey asked harshly.  
“Yeah,” Gerard replied with a mere whisper as he lay still on the floor._

_  
In reply, Mikey landed a sharp kick to Gerard’s head._

_  
“How about now?”_

_  
Silence._

_*_

_Frey waited at the servants’ entrance of the mansion, outside stood Gerard’s carriage. Sighing with relief as Bob and Ray finally arrived, Frey opened the door and ushered them inside._

_“Where are the Way brothers?” Bob asked urgently._  
“They’re both out,” Frey lied.  
“And Angela? Does she know why we’re here?”  
“Of course not!” Frey snapped. “You know what she’s like. She’d confront him and you’d never see her again.”

_Ray nodded. Angela knew her own mind, it was one of the reasons he loved her so much._

_“I’ll get her, you just take her and get her as far away as you can.”_

_As Frey disappeared through the opposite door, Ray turned to Bob and offered him a questioning look._

__  
“I still can’t believe it,” he shook his head. “I mean, I knew something was wrong, but I never expected it to be Gerard.”  
“I know,” Bob nodded, “but maybe he and Mikey aren’t so different after all?”

_As Frey almost pushed Angela back through the door, her eyes grew wide as she saw Ray and Bob waiting by the far wall._

_  
“What is it?” she cried as she ran over. “What’s wrong?”_

_  
Bob reached out and fixed a firm grip on her wrist._

__  
“We’re getting you out of here,” Bob replied gruffly, making it clear that he would tolerate no refusal on her part.  
“Why?” she demanded, pulling back automatically as he tried to drag her towards the door. “I’m not a prisoner here, you know!”  
“You will be if you don’t come with us,” Bob returned, this time a little softer.  
“What?” she replied, confused by Bob’s cryptic response.  
“Angela, it’s true,” Ray spoke gently as he took her other hand. “We know what he’s been doing to you, but now we’ve discovered that he plans to force you to marry him.”  
“Marry!” Angela’s eyes stared back in panic.  
“I can’t lose you, Angela,” Ray begged, “please, you must come now.”  
“He can’t force me,” Angela insisted, but the seed of doubt was firmly planted in her mind. “Can he?”  
“He’s rich, well connected. What if he can force a reverend to marry you against your will?”

_  
Angela buried her head in Ray’s chest._

__  
“What can we do?”  
“Leave now,” he replied confidently, “go straight to Woodridge.”  
“That’s not far,” Angela raised her head and shook it. “He’s bound to find us.”  
“By then we’ll be married, it’s all arranged. A private ceremony.”  
“But… our families, friends…” Angela’s eyes misted.  
“We’ll come back when it’s safe to, I promise. And when we do, we can marry all over again; no one will miss a thing,” Ray assured her.  
“What about your farm?”  
“Bob’s going to run my farm while we’re away.”

_  
Angela turned her eyes towards her brother._

_  
“You can’t run a farm and your blacksmiths, it’s too much!”_

_  
Bob shook his head sadly._

_  
“Not since Woodridge got a Smith, things have been pretty slow,” Bob shrugged, “I need to help you just as much as you need me.”_

_  
Angela kissed her brother on the cheek._

__  
“I love you, Bob,” she added with a smile. “You’re brother, father and friend, all in one.”  
“Go on,” he smiled back, urging her towards the door. “Take the carriage and go.”  
“My things?” she asked. “I’ll need clothes and other things.”  
Ray nodded. “It’s all right, don’t worry, we have time.”  
“But not much,” Bob added.  
“Will you just go!” Frey ordered.

_Ray and Bob pulled Angela gently, but firmly to the door and the waiting carriage._

_*_

_Gerard groaned softly as he rolled onto his back. If Mikey hadn’t been nudging him with his booted foot, it seemed likely that he’d still be unconscious._

_“Come on, sleepy head!” Mikey called. “Time to wake up!”_  
“You’re a real bastard, Mikey,” Gerard complained as the persistent taps to his arms and hip pulled him back to wakefulness.  
“I know,” Mikey laughed.  
“It wasn’t a compliment!” his brother growled as he pushed himself upright.  
“Maybe not in your world,” Mikey shrugged casually. “But I guess you’ll want to know about Frank now?”  
“How do I know you’re not making all that up too?”  
“You don’t,” Mikey grinned as he pulled Gerard to his feet. “I’ll just tell you what I know, then it’s up to you.”  
“Well, what do you know?”  
“What? We’re not going to kiss and make up first?” Mikey asked slyly.  
“Where’s Frank!” Gerard yelled, infuriated by his brother’s delays and taunts.  
“Bob Bryar’s got him,” he lied.  
“Angela’s brother? Why?” Gerard asked with a degree of scepticism.  
“Ray’s found out about you. Probably from Angela.”  
“B... but… no…” Gerard shook his head as the stammered reply escaped his lips.  
“If you’re going to say she doesn’t know about your preference for men, then you are seriously deluding yourself, dear brother.”

_  
Gerard hung his head._

__  
“No. I know she knows,” he sighed. “We were talking one night and she said I should find myself a wife.”  
“But you said you’d rather have a husband?” Mikey cut in gleefully.

_  
Gerard exhaled deeply._

__  
“Not quite so bluntly, no.”  
“Ah!” Mikey clapped his hands together. “Another drunken mistake!”  
“She said she didn’t mind, swore she wouldn’t tell anyone!”

_  
Gerard slumped in a chair, saddened and still hurting from the beating he had received earlier from Mikey._

__  
“Ah, yes, but Ray isn’t just anyone. He’s her fiancé now.”  
“Ray? He finally proposed?” A brief smile danced across his lips at the news. But within moments, he realised that Ray was probably not quite so open minded as Angela. “So, Ray got Bob involved?”  
“Ray’s taking her away from such a depraved environment.”  
“I’m not depraved!” Gerard snapped.  
“They don't agree. Bob’s looking after Ray’s farm until he and Angela are safely married and you can’t do her any more harm. Really, Gerard, it’s pretty obvious if you think about it.”  
“Okay,” Gerard turned a stern glance towards Mikey. “What’s not so obvious is how you know about it.”

_  
Mikey smiled; he had everything planned perfectly and so far it was proceeding without a hitch._

__  
“They asked to borrow the carriage.”  
“They asked you?” Gerard shook his head in disbelief.  
“No, you fool! They asked Frey. Bob drinks with him occasionally.”  
“And he told you?”  
“He told me.”  
“He just volunteered the information? Why didn’t he tell me?”  
“Well, I don’t know. Did you beat it out of him?”  
“No,” Gerard sighed.  
“That’s where you went wrong.”  
“And Frank?” Gerard sighed. “He overheard them planning all this?”

_  
Mikey clapped his hands._

__  
“Congratulations! I knew you weren’t as stupid as you look!”  
“Hilarious!” Gerard replied dryly. “Where’s Angela now? I have to speak to her.”  
“Gone. They came for her about twenty minutes ago.”  
“Frey?”  
Gone too,” Mikey shrugged. “Probably took the silverware with him.”  
Pushing himself out of the chair, Gerard headed to the door. “I have to find them. Twenty minutes, you say? They could still be packing then?”  
“Probably,” Mikey replied absently as he settled himself in the seat near the fire.  
As he turned the handle, Gerard turned back to face Mikey.

_“I don’t know if this is another pack of lies you’re spinning for your own twisted amusement, but I want you out of here, Mikey. By the time I get back, I expect you to be gone.”_

_  
Mikey watched from the comfort of his seat by the fire as Gerard slammed the door behind him on his way to the stables to saddle his horse._

_  
“I’m not going anywhere, Gerard, because you won’t be coming back.”_


	14. Where's Bob?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only a few minutes left, Bob has decided to try to help - can it or will it only make matters worse?

Slumped in a chair in the empty patient’s room, Gerard lifted his head to see Mikey staring out of the window, his eyes apparently focussed on nothing. He doubted that Mikey could actually see anything from where he was standing; the angle of the blinds alone prevented a decent view either in or out of the room. Gerard was silently relieved – the last thing they needed, he thought, was for someone outside to see and recognise Mikey. It seemed that he had long since forgotten the hours spent in the hospital café or racing around the corridors, but it was more than understandable that his ability to think logically was somewhat askew by now; they had all gone without sleep and were desperately concerned for Frank. Gerard continued to look around the room.

“Where’s Bob?” he asked absently.  
Mikey allowed his head to drift from the window as he turned, aware that his brother had spoken, but had not taken in the actual words.  
“What did you say?” he asked.  
“Bob. Where did he go?”  
Mikey looked beyond the glass leading to the corridor, believing he had seen something, he stepped forward, his eyes widening as he did so.  
“He’s in with Frank!” Mikey cried. “He’s talking to him!”  
“What!” Gerard leapt to his feet and headed quickly for the door only to be pulled back by Mikey.  
“Mikes!” Gerard yelled trying to pull away. “Let me go!”  
Mikey saw Bob glance in their direction before returning to his own conversation.  
“Gee, keep your voice down!” Mikey reminded trying to sound forceful but keeping his own volume low.  
Gerard turned worried eyes back towards Frank’s room.  
“We have to get him out, why are you stopping me?”  
“Because Frank’s only got three minutes left to respond to the treatment. We have to let him try.”  
“But if… if Frank… Bob’ll blame himself.”  
Mikey nodded. “Yeah, he will, but he’s doing that anyway.”

Gerard glanced back towards Frank’s room and watched Bob deep in a one-sided conversation with Frank. Mikey was right, Bob seemed to truly believe that if he had acted differently in the woods when trying to resuscitate Frank that he wouldn’t be like this now. Taking the point one stage further, if he hadn’t asked Frank to help him, he wouldn’t be hurt now. But, Gerard reminded himself, it would most likely have been Bob getting hurt, alone and with no one to help him – chances were he would have died.

*

“Okay, Frank,” Bob sighed. “This is the deal. You’re having a weird dream, I get that, but tell me this, why are you trying to kill yourself? You know we don’t want you to die, in fact, you can’t! Do you hear me, Iero? You can’t! Okay?”

Bob glanced up at the monitors, but nothing had changed. Frank’s pulse and blood pressure were dangerously high, his breathing was faltering severely and his forehead glistened with sweat. Bob checked the temperature reading, only to realise that it was higher now than when he had entered the room. Looking up at nothing, Bob’s mind slipped into overdrive, trying desperately to find a new approach. Taking a deep breath, Bob leaned down so that his mouth was close to Frank’s ear.

“Frank, listen, you can control your dream. Let me help. Okay, so something is making you feel hot and you can’t breathe. Let’s work on that. I’m going to guess that either you’re stuck somewhere or that someone is doing this to you, so you have two options. You have to get away from the problem yourself or you have to bring someone into your dream to help you. What’s happening has to change. Someone in your dream can help you, or invent someone. Anything, but make it happen!”

Bob rested his elbows on his knees and slumped forward holding his head in his hands. There was no response. Had he made matters worse? At the very least, he hadn’t helped at all.

The sound of the door opening caught Bob’s attention and he glanced briefly over to where the doctor stood with Gerard and Mikey. A furrow of confusion formed on the drummer’s face as he saw the doctor begin to smile.

“In about five minutes, young man, I want you to follow me to my office and tell me everything you said to him,” he announced quietly.

Bob’s face brightened and he turned quickly to stare at the monitors; Frank’s temperature was finally dropping, and rapidly too. All three band members were ushered from the room as Doctor Wendel checked on Frank. Once back in the opposite room, a jubilant Mikey threw his arms around the drummer and pulled him around in a circle.

“You’re a genius!” he laughed, still trying his best to keep his voice low.  
“Okay,” Bob replied with a degree of embarrassment, “enough with the hug now!”  
Mikey pulled away with a feigned hurt expression on his face.  
“You’re fooling no one, Mikes,” Bob waved a finger at him. “Now go use some of that energy to let Ray know.”  
Mikey grinned and almost ran from the room.  
“What did you say?” asked Gerard.  
“Well,” Bob shrugged, “I started by threatening him, but then made some suggestions to try to direct his dream. I mean, I don’t know, it could be coincidence.”  
“Maybe?” Gerard replied, unconvinced. “But I think you just saved his life.”  
Bob smiled faintly. “He’s still got to wake up, Gee.”  
Gerard nodded. “One step closer though, eh?”

*

_With hindsight, it was bound to happen, but Frank could only pray that it would be enough. The strips of leather binding his hands loosened slightly. Having soaked up much of the sweat that had run down his arms had allowed the material to stretch. Added to that, the natural expansion of leather due to the heat of the room, Frank began to feel a distinct loosening of his bonds. It gave him renewed hope and he continued to struggle with what little strength he had left. Within a few moments, however, Frank slumped, exhausted and drained. Loose was simply not loose enough. Closing his eyes in despair, he realised that it had probably been his last chance to free himself. Now coughing painfully through the gag as the hot smoke burnt the back of his throat, Frank readied himself for what he saw as the inevitable._

_His head lolled to the side as he heard the unmistakable shunting sound of metal sliding against metal as the door bolt was pushed back. Cool air filtered into the room forcing the smoke upward as the door opened. Frank had no idea what was happening; even as he saw the outline of a man crouched beside him. He felt himself being lifted up and carried outside into the cold night air._

_“Mister Iero?”  
_

_As the voice filtered through his clouded mind, Frank opened his eyes to see Roberts, Frey’s assistant, lowering him onto the damp grass outside the smokehouse._

_  
“Are you all right?” he asked as he removed the gag and set to work untying him._

_  
Frank could, at first, only stare in return as he gathered his senses._

_  
“I had to wait for Mister Frey to leave, and Mister Mikey too,” he explained. “I couldn’t be a party to your death, or anyone’s but if I didn’t go along with it, they’d have killed me too.”_

_  
Frank nodded as he rubbed his reddened wrists._

  
“Where are they?”  
“ _Mister Frey went into the woods earlier and Mister Mikey and Mister Gerard just left on horseback too.”  
“Both of them? Together?” Frank asked with surprise._

_  
Roberts shook his head as he helped Frank to his feet and offered him a canteen of water._

  
“ _No, Sir, Mister Gerard left first and Mister Mikey followed him a few minutes later.”  
“There’s something wrong, it has to be a trap.”_

_  
Roberts nodded._

  
“ _Mister Mikey wants the Estate for himself,” Roberts_ confirmed. _“I think he’s going to kill Mister Gerard for it.”_  
_Frank nodded. “But he needs to make it look like an accident. Where’s my horse?”_  
“She’s in the stable, Sir, still saddled. Mister Frey wouldn’t let me remove it. He’s a bad man,” he added sadly.  
“You’re a good man, thank you.” Frank replied patting Roberts’ shoulder before heading for the stables.

_Finding his horse, Frank led the grey mare out into the yard and mounted. Turning in the direction of the woods, Frank set off at a swift canter; he would be there in minutes._

*

_Following the only path through the wood wide enough for a horse to travel, Gerard pushed his horse as fast as he dared through the dense cover of trees. Riding through a small clearing, Gerard’s horse pulled up sharply, throwing its head and whinnying loudly, he was clearly in distress. Leaning forward for balance as the horse reared, Gerard did his best to try to quiet and comfort the frightened horse. Now holding on desperately as he realised something was very wrong as he saw a white froth gathering in its mouth either side of the bit. Shaking its head violently, the horse reared up once more. Gerard cried out in panic as he realised that the horse had pulled back just a little too far and he could already feel himself falling. With no chance to break his fall, Gerard landed heavily, grimacing with pain as he hit the floor; his only cushion, a thin covering of grass and moss. He could still hear the horse in the throes of deep distress and feared being trampled. Gerard looked up, horrified to see the horse’s terrified shrieks suddenly silence as it began to collapse. Not fast enough to roll completely out of its way, Gerard screamed in agony as its head and neck crashed lifelessly across his legs. Gasping in pain as he tried to steady his breathing, Gerard tried desperately to pull his legs free or lift the horse’s head, but he could do neither. Falling back onto the grass, he lay panting for breath, pinned by the weight of his now dead horse._

_The sound of hoof beats drew his attention as his breathing finally settled. Sighing with relief, he waited for help to arrive. The hoof beats slowed to a standstill and the rider dismounted._

_“Well, well,” the voice began, “now, this, I had not expected.”_

  
_Gerard closed his eyes as he recognised his brother’s voice._

  
_“Mikey, please help me,” Gerard called through gritted teeth, desperate not to show how much pain he was in._  
 _“Now , I was under the impression that you didn’t want to see me again.”_  
 _“Please , Mikey,” he begged. “I can’t move.”_  
 _“I can see that and this is so much better than I had planned.”_  
 _“Planned?” Gerard replied, now scared and distressed at the revelation._  
 _“Oh, yes, I’ve been planning this for a long time now. Granted, I could have just poisoned your horse any time you went out riding, but this was preferable and the only way I could be sure it would work. Riding hard pushed the poison around faster and you never ride out after dark, that was important.”_  
 _“Why?” Gerard whispered._  
 _“Because no one will question it when I set the wolves on you. You see, I’ve kept two of them locked up starving for days now. They’re so hungry, I’m sure they’ll make short work of you.” Mikey laughed. “And with Angela gone, there’ll be no one to miss you.”_  
 _“I was right, you really are a bastard, Mikey!”_  
 _“Have I ever denied it?” Mikey grinned back. “Incidentally, Angela did keep her mouth shut about you. But somehow, Ray and Bob got the impression that you were trying to steal her away. Of course, your racing through the woods after her only seems to prove it. Shame you were attacked and killed by the wolves.”_  
 _“Nobody will believe this, you know that! They know it’ll be your doing!”_  
 _“You think so?” Mikey appeared to mull the issue in his mind. “You know, I really don’t think so. Who’s going to believe that I went to all this trouble? No, I’ll be the heartbroken brother, forced to pick up the pieces after this tragic accident.”_  
 _“I hate you, Mikey,” Gerard replied bitterly._  
 _“Ah, but there’s the irony of it all, I know you don’t. Even now, if I bent to kiss you, you’d respond.”_  
 _“I’d respond all right!” Gerard growled. “I’d wring your scrawny neck!”_

_  
Mikey laughed harshly._

_  
“I do believe you would. But rest assured, Gerard, only one of us will be dying here tonight.”_


	15. Can Gerard Escape Certain Death?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pinned by his dead horse, can Gerard escape the fate Mikey has in store for him? Can anyone help, or is it too late?

Pushing open the door to Ray’s room, Mikey peered in. Ray was sitting on top of the bed with his leg raised in a harness. At his bedside sat Alan and Angela, the assistant who had administered first aid after Ray had been pulled from the pit.

“Hey, Angela!” Mikey called, offering a small wave as he entered. “I didn’t know you were here.”  
“I stayed to clear the shoot site, then came over,” she explained.  
“Is there news?” Ray asked, cheered by Mikey’s upbeat entrance.  
“Frank was having breathing problems, but he’s okay now,” Mikey offered a brief explanation.  
“Breathing problems?”  
Mikey nodded. “Yeah, it was amazing! Bob went into his room and I don’t know what he said to him, but within minutes he was fine again!”  
“So, what I said didn’t hurt him?” Frey asked with some relief in his voice.  
“No,” Mikey smiled back, “it doesn’t look like it.”

None of them could have realised at that point that it was, in fact, Frey’s few badly chosen words that were most likely the cause of Frank’s distress and the reason he had dreamt of his capture and near-death in the smokehouse. But, he had survived, both in his dream and in reality, and, for the time being, that was all that really mattered to them.

“He’s still not awake then?” Ray asked with disappointment evident in his tone.  
“Not yet,” Mikey replied, shaking his head with a slight frown. “How are you feeling?”  
“Like I shouldn’t be here.” Ray grumbled. “It’s fine now.”  
“Really?” Mikey cocked his head to the right. “Let’s see you wiggle your toes then.”  
Ray frowned. “Okay, so it’s not actually fine,” he sighed. “But I feel so out of it here. I just don’t know what’s going on.”  
“We told you we’d tell you everything,” Mikey protested.  
“Did you tell me that Frank had breathing difficulties?”  
“No,” Mikey admitted. “But he only had ten minutes to respond to the treatment and we didn’t want you to worry.”  
“He was THAT bad?” Ray cried with surprise.  
“Er…” Mikey clasped his hands behind him and stared at his feet, looking very much the naughty schoolboy. “Yeah,” he admitted.  
“Mikey!”

  
The bassist glanced up and shrugged helplessly.

  
“Probably shouldn’t have mentioned that, eh?”  
“Mikey,” Angela cut in gently. “I think Ray wanted to worry.”  
“Why?” Mikey asked innocently. “Isn’t it better just knowing he’s okay?”

Ray smiled. Mikey was so sweet and thoughtful. He truly meant what he said but had seriously missed the point.

“Mikey, I need to be there for the lows as well as the highs. I know you don’t want me to worry, but I’ve only sprained my ankle. I can be there for you guys too.”  
Mikey nodded. “I’m sorry, Ray. It was just a bit of a shock you know.”  
Ray nodded. “It’s okay. Anyway, I’m fine, go back and et me another update!”  
Mikey smiled happily and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he turned back to face the trio.  
“I’ve got a feeling he’s going to be okay.”  
“Me too,” Ray replied, happy to see Mikey’s spirits lifted.

*

_Mikey turned his head sharply as he heard the crackle of twigs being broken underfoot and smiled slyly as Frey approached with two muzzled wolves. Frey offered up a short laugh as he noticed Gerard lying helpless under the dead horse._

_“There’s a stroke of luck, mister Mikey,” Frey commented as he fastened the wolves’ leashes to a nearby tree.  
“Indeed,” Mikey agreed. “Now, remove the muzzles.”_

_Frey turned to look at the wolves and considered the logistical problems. If he removed the muzzle of one wolf, he would surely be attacked while removing the other._

_“B..but, Sir.”_  
“ _Just do it!” Mikey snapped_ _irritably_.  
“ _He’s going to kill you, Frey!” Gerard called. “Do you really think he wants a witness to this?”_

_  
Frey turned unimpressed eyes to stare at Gerard and curled his lips into a sly grin._

_  
“I killed Iero and I’m still alive. What makes you any different?”_

_Gerard’s eyes grew wide as he renewed his struggles against the weight of his horse._

  
_“Frank!” he yelled, tears standing in his eyes. As he realised he could do nothing about his immobilisation, his head flopped back against the soil. “You bastard! I hope you rot in Hell!”  
“Don’t worry,” Frey chuckled, “I’m sure the Devil will let you exact your revenge when I arrive. You and Satan should be on good terms by then.”_

_Lining up in front of the snarling, slavering wolves, Frey reached for both muzzles and pulling sharply ran back at speed to stand beyond their reach._

  
“ _I did it!” he cried triumphantly.  
“Yes you did.” Mikey clapped a hand on Frey’s back. “But you know, and you realise, I wouldn’t normally say this – you should have listened to Gerard.”_

_With a laugh that bordered on a sadistic cackle, Mikey shoved Frey hard. Landing at the feet of the starving wolves, Frey screamed as were on him immediately, tearing at his flesh as he thrashed his arms and legs in a bid to escape them. Mikey watched dispassionately and Gerard turned his eyes away as the starving wolves quickly devoured the stableman. As the noise of tearing flesh, cracking bones and Mikey’s twisted laughter filled the air, another sound went overlooked. Neither brother heard the approaching hoof beats until the horse and rider had reached the clearing._

_  
Turning at the sound of his name, Mikey felt the vicious lash of a riding crop swept with force borne of anger across his face. Spinning to his left, Mikey turned back, his right cheek bleeding and his eye already swollen and closed._

_Gerard’s eyes widened and his face expressed a mixture of combinations: joy at seeing Frank alive and not dead as Frey had gloated, relief that his predicament was known and at the same time fearful for Frank. Despite his determination, it was obvious that he was weak and Gerard knew that Mikey would see anyone dead who got in his way._

_Pulling out a knife, Mikey waved it in Frank’s direction as he swung around for another attack. This time, the crop landed on Mikey’s arm the pain of it forcing him to drop the knife. Frank pushed forward, lashing out and forcing Mikey backwards one step with each swing. Finally catching the crop with bloodied hands, Mikey pulled Frank from his horse, allowing him to crash to the floor, dazed but unhurt. Kicking him over onto his back, Mikey pushed his foot down on Frank’s throat and smiled cruelly._

“ _Just the slightest pressure and I’ll finish what Frey started.”_  
“ _No! Please!” Gerard begged. “Mikey, for God’s sake, let him live!”_  
“ _My dear brother, you know I can’t do that. No witnesses, you said it yourself.”_

_Mikey glanced down at Frank, choking under his foot but before he could press down, the sound of a rifle shot crackled through the air. The bullet penetrated Mikey’s thigh and he staggered backwards gripping his leg as blood poured from the wound. Glancing around in astonishment, he saw Bob lowering the rifle once more and taking aim._

_“No!” he yelled taking two more steps back.  
“Mikey!” Gerard shouted, but the warning came too late, Mikey had already ventured too close to the wolves._

_Pulled down and back, he screamed with terror and agony as the two wolves tore into him. His sounds were little more than a weakened whimper as Bob fired again, felling one of the two wolves. Lowering the rifle, Bob pushed another two shells into the chambers but he knew before he raised the weapon and fired at the remaining wolf that Mikey was already dead._

  
_As Mikey was dying, Frank had crawled to Gerard to try to comfort him. He found it absurd that Gerard was so distraught given that Mikey had tried to kill them both, but despite it all, Mikey was his brother and he loved him.  
Frank was almost unconscious with dehydration as he heard Ray, Bob and Angela rushing to their assistance._

*

_“It’s good to see you up and about again, Mister Iero,” Angela smiled, bringing him some breakfast on a tray._

  
_Frank sat by the fire in the mansion sitting room, now recovered from his ordeal but still deeply unhappy._

  
“ _Please call me Frank.”_  
_“Yes, Mister Frank.”_  
_Frank smiled at the name. “I take it that Gerard still hasn’t risen?”_  
_Angela_ _looked_ _down_. “ _No_ , _Sir_.”  
_“His legs? Were they badly hurt? Can he walk?”_  
_“He can walk, Sir, I’ve seen him. When I took him breakfast.”_  
_“You mean he’s out of bed?” Frank’s brow furrowed. “Then why won’t he come out of his room_?”  
“ _He’s in mourning, Sir_.”  
_“In mourning! For his brother? He tried to kill him!”_  
“I know,” Angela shook her head. “It’s not my place, Sir, but I think you should speak to him.”  
“You think he’d listen to me?”  
“He…” Angela hesitated. “He holds you in high esteem, Sir; more even than a brother. I think he’d do anything for you.”

  
_Frank smiled at her subtlety._

  
“ _Okay, I’ll try.”_

_Making his way to Gerard’s room, Frank knocked and opened the door despite the lack of reply._

_“I didn’t ask you to come in… oh, Frank, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was you.”_  
_“Can I come in?” Frank asked with a smile._  
_“Of course you can,” Gerard nodded with a slight blush in his cheeks. “You saved my life.”_  
“ _I_ _tried_ _to_ , _but_ _it_ _was_ _Bob_ _really_ , _he_ _saved_ _both_ _our_ _lives_.”  
“ _Why_ _did_ _they_ _come back? I thought Mikey had everything under control.”_  
“Well, you know Angela, she wanted to know everything, and it all came out.”  
_“What did?” Gerard asked nervously._  
“ _That_ _it_ _was_ _Mikey_ _who_ _had_ _made_ _advances_ _towards_ _her_.”  
“ _Oh_!” _Gerard_ _sighed_ _with_ _relief_.  
“ _Then the whole story fell apart. They knew you were alone and Mikey had something planned. They came back to help.”_  
“I’m going to need a new stableman.”  
“Well, there’s Bob. He could move his blacksmith’s business here and combine the two.”  
“Do you think he would?” asked Gerard hopefully.  
“Well,” Frank smiled, “I kind of already asked him and he’s keen.”

  
_The ends of Gerard’s lips turned up._

  
_“You always did know what was best for me. I should have locked Mikey up like you suggested, shouldn’t I?”_  
_Frank shrugged. “Well, what are we going to do to get you better?”_  
_Gerard sighed heavily and sat down in his favourite armchair._  
_“I’ll be fine, there’s nothing broken.”  
Frank knelt at his side and spoke quietly. “Just your heart.”_

 _Gerard lowered his eyes at the words as Frank gently brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. His fingers hovered for a few moments before bringing his palm down to cup Gerard’s cheek_.

  
_“Can anyone mend that broken heart?”_

  
_Gerard’s lips parted in astonishment as he raised his eyes to stare at Frank who was smiling at him. Finally after what seemed like an age, Gerard smiled back._

  
_“Will you stay?”_  
_“I’m not going anywhere,” Frank replied with a squeeze of Gerard’s hand._

*

“Stay with us, Frank.”  
“I’m not going anywhere.”

  
Gerard looked up, his eyes wide, his lips parted in astonishment as Frank spoke and lightly squeezed his hand.

  
“You’re awake!” Gerard cried joyfully, only truly believing it as Frank opened his eyes. “Oh, my God! You’re awake!”

  
Frank lay bewildered as Gerard ran from the room shouting.

  
“He’s awake!”  
“Gerard!” Frank cried suddenly disorientated. Surely, he was the one who was well and Gerard was the one in need of care. What was going on?

Gerard’s calls had summoned Mikey and Bob from the room opposite and Frank’s eyes widened with horror as they entered.

“Get him away from me!” Frank yelled with venom in his tone.  
“What?” Gerard turned to see a very stunned Bob and Mikey standing in the doorway. “Frank, what’s wrong?”

  
Bob, certain the remark was aimed at him, shrank back, hurt and shocked by the level of anger in Frank’s voice.

  
“Frank!” Gerard snapped, at once surprised and angry. “Bob saved your life!”  
“I know he did,” Frank growled in reply. “I wasn’t talking about him!”  
“Me?” Mikey raised his eyebrows.  
“Why aren’t you dead?”  
“Frank, what…” Bob began. “Ah! Your dream.”  
“What dream? What are you…?” Frank glanced around the room and finally took in his surroundings. “I’m in hospital?”  
“You were in a coma, we were really worried about you,” Gerard replied.

  
Frank’s face blanked as he tried to remember the circumstances that led him to hospital. Finally giving up, he waved Bob and Mikey into the room as Doctor Wendel arrived followed by Ray, Angela and Frey.

  
“Don’t you remember the woods? The trap you sprung?” asked Bob as Wendel confirmed that all was well.  
“No,” Frank shook his head. “I remember the woods, but nothing else.”  
“That’s common,” Wendel confirmed. “Don’t worry, his memory will probably return with some rest.”  
“Back to sleep?” Mikey asked with concern.  
“Don’t worry,” Wendel confirmed with a smile. “There’s a big difference between sleep and coma. He’s fine now.”

  
Mikey threw his arms around the guitarist.

  
“It’s so good to have you back!”

  
Frank smiled; grateful that the Mikey he knew was so different to the one in his dream.

  
“What was your dream?” asked Gerard.  
“It was sort of the legend of the woods, but you were all in it!”  
“And?” Gerard asked intrigued.  
“And… I think we better leave it there.”  
“Oh!” Gerard laughed. “Sounds like Frank got the girl!”  
“If you say so, Gerard,” Frank grinned. “If you say so!”

 

**THE END**


End file.
